


Eight Pokémon Trainers Go To The Beach

by wat8548



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Boners, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Day At The Beach, Frottage, Groping, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Euphemistic Watersports, Omorashi, Pantsing, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Semi-Public Sex, Shorts (Clothing), Speedos, Surfing, Swimming, Unabashed Tag Spam, Underwater, Upshorts, Urination, Voyeurism, Wetting, intentional wetting, wetsuit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wat8548/pseuds/wat8548
Summary: And shenanigans ensue.





	Eight Pokémon Trainers Go To The Beach

"I thought we'd agreed I was bringing the pop?"

Brendan winced at the accusatory note in Lucas' voice, but straightened up, still defiantly holding his cargo. Lucas was standing at the top of the sea wall, glaring down at him, a single large bottle dangling from one arm and a surfboard clasped within the other. Brendan hadn't heard him arrive, but the least he was expecting was a hello at the start of what they'd all planned together as a fun day out.

"What, and that means nobody else is allowed to?" he retorted, looking back down at the plastic wrapped pack of six bottles in his arms.

"I thought that was the plan," replied Lucas coolly. He still hadn't moved, as if he was expecting Brendan to back down and go and cast his illicit bounty into the sea or something.

Brendan snorted. "Just as well it wasn't, then, there's no way that's enough for all of us," he pointed out, as he moved to set his bottles down in the inadequate shade offered by the metre-high concrete wall. Not that the quality was likely to be despoiled too much by being warmed up; Brendan's beverage of choice was the cheapest, non-branded variety of fizz that the out-of-town supermarket could offer. It tasted of gas, sugar, and a faint chemical afternote that was allegedly Cheri Berry. Brendan couldn't get enough of the stuff.

"That's not the point," Lucas said vaguely but no less aggressively, as he moved round to the staircase cut into the wall a short distance away from the track that led back to the hotel. His plan had been to show up here before anyone else and try to exert some measure of control over the proceedings. He couldn't understand how the laid-back Brendan, of all people, had managed to beat him here, at least until he rounded the bottom of the stairs and saw the Mach Bike leaning against the wall beside him.

Typical, he thought. The bike-obsessed boy must have plotted to get here first and show him up, just because he wasn't as sporty as Brendan was, or as cool-headed, or as shameless enough to wear a figure-hugging cycling top everywhere he went. Knowing perfectly well that Brendan had intended nothing of the sort, and sensing that he wasn't going to bother giving him the reply he was seeking, Lucas followed on with, "You know why it's important we don't have too much pop here, right?"

" _Too much pop?_ " Brendan repeated flippantly, looking up from where he was unzipping his rucksack. "What language are you speaking again?"

"No idea, but it's not one I've heard before," chimed in a new voice from above. Lucas jerked his head up and, with a sinking feeling, witnessed the arrival of four more bottles, currently attached to Gold's hand.

"Hey, Gold!" Brendan called out in delight, before craning his neck slightly to discern the skulking form of the other new arrival. "And hey Silver, too! Come on down here and let's get this beach party started!"

"Woo!" Gold shouted in agreement, leaping off the edge of the wall and landing in the soft sand with the bottles still clasped in one hand. Silver said nothing, but stalked over to the staircase looking as if he hoped their enthusiasm wasn't contagious, but would rather be far away from it if it was. He had taken the most cajoling out of their group to come along, and had only agreed after an extended round of pleading and bargaining from Gold.

Gold himself had ripped out two of his bottles and tossed one to Brendan, who caught it and grinned back. Together they wrenched the caps off, tipped their heads back and began to drink. Gold had downed nearly half of his before removing the bottle from his lips, looking across at Brendan and remarking, "You know, it's just not the same without Blue yelling 'Chug! Chug! Chug!' all the time."

"Did someone say, 'Chug'?" came the voice in question. The arrivals were coming thick and fast now. Lucas looked up to see Blue leading the latest pack, with Red a little way behind and Wally smiling shyly off to the side, and - yes - another six bottles, currently in Red's arms but unmistakably in Blue's ownership.

"Wally! You made it!" Brendan cried out, beaming as his eyes alighted on Blue's companion. He dropped the bottle he was holding in the sand and raced over to the stairs, tackling Wally before the alarmed smaller boy had time to react and sweeping him up into a bear hug.

Lucas took advantage of Brendan's distractedness to frown disapprovingly at Blue. "Why did you bring pop too? We've already got way too much."

"It's a free country," Blue shot back dismissively, crouching on the edge of the wall before lowering himself down onto the sand. "Hey, gimme that, Red," he added in the opposite direction, retrieving the newest set of bottles from above and dumping them beside Brendan's as Red followed his path down the wall.

"You don't understand," Lucas insisted, still forlornly clutching his single bottle and surfboard. "We can't have too much sugar down here, because otherwise -" He cut off, as a distant rumbling noise alerted him to the fact that his point was about to be made for him. Looking above the concrete one last time, sure enough, there was a familiar dust cloud on the horizon.

"LUUUCAAASSS!" The yell was loud enough to make everyone else pause and look up from what they were doing. The one-boy stampede reached a crescendo and then just as suddenly stopped as Barry came flying clean off the edge of the wall, narrowly missed Gold who was still standing where he had landed earlier, and dug two deep grooves into the sand as he skidded to a halt some distance away. For a moment it looked like he might have stuck the landing, then abruptly he toppled over onto the side that was unbalanced through having to bear the weight of... a pack of bottles.

An _opened_ pack of bottles.

"Lucas, guess what!" he shouted as he scrambled up, apparently none the worse for wear. "Guess what, Lucas! Guess what they sell around here!"

Lucas hadn't thought it was possible for his heart to sink any further, but he knew better than to attempt to get a word in edgeways with Barry.

"Sorry I'm late, but I _had_ to find this! I tried five shops before I found one that sold it! Hey everyone, check it out!"

Having successfully attracted all attention, Barry was dashing back to the rest of the group, holding his purchase aloft like a prize trophy. Lucas was no connoisseur of fizzy drink brands, but he knew to expect the worst from anything that used radioactive green in its colour scheme that liberally.

"Is that Jolteon Cola?" Blue was the first to speak. Barry's grin spread even wider.

"Did you know it's _illegal_ to sell this to minors in Sinnoh?" Barry announced gleefully, perhaps hoping that this statement would have the exact opposite effect on Lucas than it did. Preparing for the worst, Lucas inquired pointedly, "How much of that have you drunk, Barry?"

"What d'you mean?" Barry looked almost scandalised as he turned around, still holding the clearly opened pack as if he was oblivious to his existence.

"The Jolteon Cola, Barry," Lucas continued forcefully. " _How much of it have you drunk?_ "

"Well -" Barry cut off as he looked down at the pack. "I dunno. I might have had a bit out of a bottle, I guess?"

"Just a bit of one?" Lucas pressed him further.

"OK, _maybe_ a whole one then!"

" _Just_ one?"

" _Okay, okay,_ maybe it was more than one! I left you some, though, I swear!"

"You think that's what I -" Lucas spluttered before catching himself, looking away and accidentally catching the eye of Blue, who was gazing at the exchange with undisguised amusement. Lucas sighed loudly and stomped around Barry towards where the rest of the group had left their belongings.

"Hey Barry, just leave the bottles with the rest, yeah?" Brendan called out, adding to Lucas' chagrin. Nothing was going according to plan. Barry had proved entirely incapable of being kept as far away from caffeine as possible, and what was worse was that Brendan seemed to have effortlessly assumed the role of de facto leader. They hadn't agreed this. Brendan with his cheap bike and his cheap drinks and what looked like the world's cheapest surfboard stuck end-up in the sand next to them, just a thin wedge of plastic of a particularly tasteless pale greenish colour. He'd known that Brendan was a keen surfer and that he was planning to go surfing today, but he hadn't bargained on _this_.

Here, at least, though, was a chance to show Brendan up. Lucas had come prepared for this day. His surfboard was a thing of beauty, sleek, black and smooth, and when he upended it and rammed it down into the sand just in front of Brendan's... object... he knew that he had succeeded in asserting his dominance at last. Lucas glanced around, smirking, looking to make sure that Brendan had noticed and acknowledged his actions. He had not.

Instead, Brendan had joined - or possibly started - the scrum over by the section of wall under which the group's bags had accumulated. In one hand he was holding a towel, and in the other a pair of swimming shorts in a shade of green that almost, but not quite, succeeded in not clashing horribly with his surfboard. As Lucas watched, Brendan draped the objects on top of his opened bag, and then in one swift motion, grabbed his cycling shirt by the hem and peeled it over the top of his head, yanking it off and dislodging his hat in the process. His tanned chest, already showing some muscle from his various sporting activities, relaxed back to its natural state as Brendan bent down again and started taking his shoes off.

Lucas swallowed and hastily turned away, dropping his bottle in the sand some distance away from all the others, then dropping his bag and opening it up.

The air was filled with activity as eight sets of bags were opened, swimming costumes and towels extracted and clothes removed. Lucas wasn't quite the last to get started, as Gold was still digging through the mess in his bag. Beside him Silver had produced a towel surely big enough to smother one of Johto's smaller settlements, and a pair of dark red shorts which just about qualified for the term. Blue had his trousers off already; he was the tallest in the group and a lot of that height seemed to have gone to his boxer-clad legs, a faint trail of auburn hairs beginning to creep up from his shins. Wally, either accidentally or on purpose, was standing next to Brendan in such a way that it was almost impossible for anyone else in the group to see him as he stripped off under his towel. Despite his chemical assistance, Barry was one of the slower changers, mostly because he seemed to be having trouble pulling off the fine motor skills required to disentangle his crumpled towel and yellow shorts from everything else and each other.

Barry finally succeeded in grasping his shorts with a triumphant giggle. Looking around, he realised nobody was paying attention - most were focused on getting their swimsuits on, and Gold was even still engrossed in his bag. Emboldened partly by the sugar rush and partly by just being Barry, he ripped his shirt over his head and chucked it straight up as high as he could muster. There was no wind, so it just fell straight back down on his own head, which just made him laugh harder. Next he kicked both his shoes off hard enough that one of them landed halfway towards the sea. His towel lay forgotten on the sand as he unhooked his belt and dropped both his trousers and boxers in one tug.

The sheer daring of this act sent him into another fit of the giggles, calmed only by the realisation that he still had to step out of them and that still nobody was interested in him. He waddled out a little way onto the sand, stepping around Brendan and then stopping to yank one of his feet out of his underwear. With his trousers and boxers now around one ankle, and still wearing his socks, he cast his gaze around the largely towel-clad group one last time. He didn't notice that he had attracted the attention of one of them - Wally, standing at the end of the line, and still unwillingly the best at not getting noticed. But it was a "talent" that he had rare occasion to be grateful for, as the blush crept across his cheeks and he tried to rip his stare away from the slightly older boy some way in front of him.

Wally's blush only intensified as Barry resigned himself to removing his clothes entirely, and lifted up the leg on his far side as he tried to shake the garments off his ankle. The motion left nothing to the imagination. Wally was petrified as he watched the dozen or so shakes it took before Barry's trousers finally fell to the sand, and the one more for the boxers to follow them. Except he wasn't really watching that at all. He was hypnotised by Barry's tackle, maybe two inches long or so (unless it had grown a bit in the excitement), as it bounced up and down with the motion, alternately slapping against his smooth but heavy ballsack and the sparse bush of blond pubic hairs.

"Hey, has anyone seen my trunks?" Gold's voice rang out amidst the silence, breaking the spell and leaving Wally feeling as if an Iron Ball had been dropped on his head. He was suddenly acutely conscious of his own nakedness under his towel, and hastily moved to pull up the pale green shorts at his ankles, grateful in ways he never thought he'd be that he had opted to buy a baggy style of swimming costume this time.

"Sure have," replied Blue from somewhere over the other end of the line. "They're hideous."

"Har har," Gold retorted, in deepest unamusement. "I could've sworn I packed them in this bag."

"Maybe you can join Barry's club," Silver said with evident distaste. He had finished changing and turned around, just in time to meet Barry's eyes. Barry wasn't sure what kind of attention he'd been hoping for, but the only kind Silver ever gave anything probably didn't fit the bill. He turned slightly, and then his eyes briefly met Wally's.

"Eww Barry, put it away!" Gold half-laughed as he turned around, holding a towel but no trunks. Barry skipped back over to his previous position and jammed his feet through his discarded shorts, pulling the waistband up so rapidly that it caught on his balls, and there was an audible smack as his penis hit his belly one last time before it was hidden once again. He then realised he still hadn't remembered to take off his socks.

Everyone else apart from Gold appeared to be more or less ready now. Red was wearing a pair of boxer-brief-styled trunks in a vibrant shade of - what else - red, and Lucas had donned a similar style in black. Silver and Brendan had both opted for baggy shorts that nearly covered their knees, while a similar but slightly tighter and shorter garment could be seen on Wally and Barry. Blue was wearing speedos.

Of course he is, went the unwanted thought that intruded into Red's brain. Look at him, he's always been the natural showoff, hasn't he? Not like him to pass on an opportunity like this one to go on parade, with his tall frame, and effortlessly cool hairdo, and perfectly sculpted chest, and the unmistakable relaxed curve around the front of the fabric that betrayed all manner of info, and that was around the point where Red's thoughts snapped towards the tell-tale twinge within his own trunks and sent him into a panic and dashing away from the group in the only direction available, but the cooling water had barely reached his kneecaps when the sound of his own name hit him back into reality.

"Red! I know you're eager, but you forgot your suncream!" Brendan did his best to project his voice while still holding a bottle of the stuff in one hand. Around him the others were digging out their own supplies, with even more varieties on display than there were of drinks. Wally was diligently reading the back of something Brendan was fairly certain was only available with a prescription. Silver and Barry - the redhead and the northern blond - had had to settle for the fiercest stuff money could buy, with a rating high enough to send the sun itself scurrying behind the nearest cloud for cover. This seemed uncharacteristically responsible on Barry's part, until Brendan remembered Lucas dragging Barry around the town centre the previous evening. Silver merely seemed resigned to the hope of adding as few bonus freckles to the ample collection around his shoulders and chest as possible. Brendan felt slightly guilty as he upended the bottle that was nearly as cheap as everything else he had brought, but it wasn't his fault he came from a tropical region.

Red and Blue were sharing the same bottle, or at least Blue was using that bottle while Red returned from the water. As he approached, Blue finished covering his chest and briskly swiped the remaining grease on his hand just under his waistband, giving the briefest flash of a brown bush to anyone who happened to be standing in more or less the same position as Red was at that instant. Then he squirted out another dollop and, committed to making sure no errant burnt slivers would appear, started by tugging up the front of one of his costume's legholes just far enough to make Red remember why he had run off in the first place. He hastily diverted off to the right, before coming face to face with the consequences of his mistake.

"You look burnt already!" Barry snickered, surveying the complexion that was very much its owner's namesake. "That was so quick, you must need something really strong!"

Red nearly made the mistake of opening his mouth to protest before screwing both it and his eyes shut just in time, as Barry jammed both fists around his bottle to make a projectile squirt land on Red's face. He resigned himself to the ensuing rough treatment, deciding that on the sliding scale of Wacky Antics, he'd rather put up with Barry than Blue right now. He was, however, a little concerned that Barry's fingers seemed to be vibrating.

Brendan stepped out of the group and casually looked around as he got down on one knee, preparing to coat the lower half of his body. He noticed that one person appeared not to be applying sunscreen at all - Lucas, still standing a little way off, was holding something large and black.

Despite himself, Brendan wanted to investigate further. One leg done, he got up and walked over. "What's that?" he asked.

Lucas looked up at the sound of Brendan's inquisitive voice, and smiled. "It's a wetsuit," he explained proudly. "This is how you go surfing properly, you know."

"Really?" Brendan replied somewhat sceptically, as he took to his other knee and squeezed out some more cream.

Lucas tried to hide his frustration, reminding himself that this was the closest he had come to a victory thus far. "All the pros wear wetsuits, they're awesome. They keep you - nrgh - perfectly warm even in - ugh - cold water and they fit like - ergh - a second skin."

"I can see that," Brendan commented in amusement as Lucas struggled to maintain his demeanour while tackling the somewhat undignified task of shoving his feet down the unyielding legs of his fancy suit. Without waiting for a comeback, Brendan smartly reached around Lucas, plucked his surfboard out from its position behind Lucas' and strolled back over to where the drinks were.

The entire contents of Gold's rucksack were now scattered around the sand, in far more order than they had ever been while still inside. Conspicuously absent among the expired Full Heals, half-melted RageCandyBars and unsold Nuggets was anything wearable. Gold sat in despair amidst the middle of it all. Silver took one look at the scene, tutted, then stalked off towards the water holding one of Gold's unopened drink bottles.

"You could always go back and get them," Blue offered, not terribly helpfully. The spot the group had chosen for their day out was some way outside civilisation. The sea wall was the only sign of human involvement for at least a mile around; above it was a vast expanse of scrubby grassland, while a little further along from their position the beach itself gave out and was replaced by a collection of large rocks.

"That'd take _aaages_!" Gold protested. It had taken them nearly an hour to walk here in the first place (with the possible exception of Barry). "I don't wanna miss all the fun!"

"Go naked then," Blue said bluntly, turning around to grab one of Brendan's drinks before following Silver. He opened it as he walked and took his first gulp several paces away, then grimaced. After a brief mental grapple, he decided that he valued successfully pulling off an emphatic parting shot and smooth exit more than he did his taste buds.

Gold sighed and picked up his towel again. Red drifted away, holding another drink - this appeared to be one of Barry's - while Barry himself snatched up two drinks apparently at random and dashed along the sand shouting indistinctly. Only Gold, Brendan, Lucas and Wally were left against the wall. Brendan picked up the drink he had dropped earlier.

Not bothering to repack his bag, Gold removed his hat, then his shoes and socks, then dumped his top over them. He knotted the towel around his waist and awkwardly tugged his black and yellow shorts down, followed by squirming out of his white briefs.

"Hey Wally!" Lucas was still fighting with his wetsuit, but he appeared to have some attention to spare for the smallest member of their gang, who had just unpacked a plastic bucket and spade from his bag and moved out of Gold's shelter.

"P-pardon?" Wally jerked his head around nervously.

"What's that you've got there, then?" Lucas queried mockingly, just as he finally succeeded in getting the suit's legs over his trunks.

"It - it's a bucket and spade..." Wally said in a small voice.

"I can't hear you!" Lucas lied loudly. "What did you say it was?"

"Knock it off, Lucas," Brendan interjected firmly. "Why can't he bring a bucket and spade if he wants?"

"You serious?" Lucas jeered. "I thought _you_ were here to go surfing?"

"So what?" Brendan admonished him even more sternly. "What're you, the fun police?"

"I - I - " Wally stuttered in between them. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Tell you what, Wally," Brendan hastily continued, clapping a hand on Wally's shoulder. "How about we build a sandcastle together, you and me? No joyless bitches allowed."

Wally still looked unsure, eyes focused on the plastic in his hands as Brendan swivelled him around. Lucas was thankfully distracted by what had turned out to be the more difficult than anticipated task of getting the wetsuit's arms on.

"I thought you wanted to go surfing..." Wally said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Brendan was unswayed, although he couldn't ignore the twang of regret as his eyes fell on the surfboard still leaning against the wall beside Gold. "No, no, it's alright, I don't want you to feel left out."

"I can do it," Gold piped up. He dropped his towel, revealing that he was wearing the same wide shorts that he had arrived in, except that his underpants had been discarded on top of his other clothes. He laughed ruefully, and added, "Probably shouldn't get these too wet anyway."

Brendan's voice caught in his throat, unsure whether to accept the kind offer and relinquish the responsibility he had assumed towards Wally. Wally, fortunately, overcame his shyness and gave a small smile in Gold's direction. "Would you?" he asked eagerly. "Thanks!"

"No worries," Gold assured him with an easy smile, as he upended someone or other's sun lotion, having apparently failed to bring that as well. "Just gotta do this, and then I'll be right with you, OK? And Brendan, I heard you wanted to go surfing?"

"Thanks, Gold," Brendan said, then, worried his relief had showed up too clearly in his voice, he turned back to Wally and gave him another hug.

"It's alright," Wally muttered into Brendan's bare shoulder. "Thanks for thinking about me."

Brendan finished his drink, grabbed his surfboard and headed out to the waves.

* * *

"This is gonna be the best sandcastle ever!"

Wally was letting Gold's enthusiasm carry him over to the spot Gold had scoped out. It had damp sand at just the right consistency, was largely free of seaweed and was within digging distance of some water channels for a moat. Perhaps it was slightly marred by its proximity to Silver, who was sitting on the sand alternately scrolling through his Pokégear and taking swigs from his bottle. But he spared the invaders of his privacy no more than a frown before turning back to what he was doing.

"Hey, we should get some drinks too! I'll be right back, 'kay?" Gold dashed back to the wall without giving Wally time to confirm that it was in fact 'kay, leaving him to kneel down on the sand and start digging. Gold returned a few seconds later, a multicoloured bundle of bottles filling his arms.

"You haven't had anything yet, right? Take two," he said to Wally, kneeling down and presenting a selection of five. Wally was taken aback by the sudden generosity, and more so when he noticed that one of the bottles was the half-full one that Gold had been drinking when he arrived. He hastily complied, just about managing to squeak out a "thanks" before Gold bounded over to Silver and dropped one of the remaining bottles on the sand next to him.

"Save you going back when you finish," he offered by way of explanation, knowing better than to wait for a thank you before he returned to the nascent sandcastle. He sat down with one last violent thud and reopened his bottle, which fizzed in a way that darkly suggested it would jolly well have blown up in his face if only someone hadn't half-emptied it first.

Silver looked back, his attention momentarily diverted by Gold and his loud antics, intending to satisfy himself that the danger of interruption and/or forced socialisation had passed. Gold was sitting firmly down, idly scraping out what might turn into a moat with one hand, swapping design ideas with Wally. Silver was just about to turn back when something caught his eye.

Gold was sitting with his left leg flat on the sand, and his right bent upwards at the knee. A combination of gravity and carelessness had taken effect on his loose shorts, and combined with the precise angle at which Silver was facing, meant that... strictly speaking, he couldn't be sure at this distance, but it looked _very_ much like an eyeful. He'd seen Gold take off his underwear, and he knew he was looking at pink when one would rationally expect there to be pink, but one didn't often _see_ pink, and then Gold shifted his leg slightly as he leaned over to point something out to Wally and oh no, there it was. The unmistakable knot of foreskin trapped between the thigh and the rumpled up shorts, and Gold didn't even seem aware that he could have started pissing and hit Silver square in the face right then, and Silver suddenly became _extremely_ aware of his own genitals and snapped his head back round to face towards the water as Gold settled back into his previous position.

The sandcastle builders, having completely missed all of this, decided that what they really needed was another drink. Taking a cue from Silver, who had just become intensely interested in his own bottle, Gold drained his first bottle and exhorted Wally to open at least one of his. As Wally was fiddling with the cap, Gold leaned back away from him, hands on the ground behind his back and both knees in the air. He seemed to be struggling with something, which was resolved when he let out an almighty burp.

Gold whistled, then proclaimed, "Better out than in!" Wally looked up from the fizzy eruption currently coating his hands, courtesy of Gold's drinks-waiting, and then his eyes too accidentally landed upon Gold's inadequately covered thighs. His vantage point on the other side of a modestly-sized sandcastle afforded him a direct view up Gold's left shorts leg, and further, until it landed on something that didn't appear to be part of a leg at all. It was too pink, and too round, and too veiny, and too closely situated below the merest glimpse of the base of a thing that seemed to be hanging to the other side. And Wally's face was too hot and his own shorts too tight and after the fraction of a second had passed he snapped his focus back to the spade in front of him.

Still oblivious to the effect he was having, Gold leaned forward again. He didn't notice the occasional glances thrown his way from Silver's direction, nor when Silver abruptly changed poses to lie on his front.

* * *

Now that the others were out of earshot, Lucas felt more confident in cursing whoever designed this wetsuit to zip up at the back. He was almost desperate enough to contemplate asking for help, perhaps from someone who could hopefully be relied upon to shut up about it, like Red. But finally, after what his backbone helpfully informed him had been an actual sodding age of doubling over and attempting contortionist manoeuvres, the final clasp around his neck was closed.

Picking up his board, he looked around. Gold and Wally were building their stupid sandcastle somewhere in the direction of the rocks, and Silver was sitting not too far away. Red and Blue were in the water over to his other side, alternately swimming and attempting to assault each other. He could neither see nor hear Barry at all, which alarmed every instinct he had. But that would have to wait, for there, standing straight up atop one of the modest waves this calm day had to offer, was Brendan.

Lucas hated to admit it, but Brendan was actually a very good surfer. That flotsam he called a surfboard didn't seem to be holding him back at all - he remained effortlessly balanced as the wave broke, arms outstretched, until he leapt off the board and carried it back into the surf. For the first time, a worry began eating away at him. What if the expensive suit and the expensive board couldn't help? He hadn't known what he was dealing with. Being the best surfer in a group was easy when that group didn't have a Brendan in it.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He'd come far enough that he couldn't back down now. Pausing only to open the bottle he had brought and drain half its contents - he hadn't realised how thirsty he was - he set off at a run towards Brendan's position.

Brendan was still full of the warm fuzzy feeling that can only come from having nobly offered to sacrifice oneself for a greater cause without actually having been required to make that sacrifice, as he followed the routine through one more time. The conditions weren't ideal, but there were at least something resembling waves if you went out far enough. Wading along the seabed pushing his board, being careful to avoid Red and Blue's courtship rituals, find a good spot, then get onto the board and ride the wave as far as he could.

He was just starting to stand up when he noticed he had company. Lucas, resplendent in his fancy-pants... er, fancy pants, had followed him up from the sand, pushing his own board. If he didn't know better he'd say the guy appeared to be watching him closely and consciously imitating his behaviour. He pushed Lucas out of his mind as his board gathered speed, and it wasn't until he turned back for another go that he saw Lucas still out there, treading water near the exact place Brendan had begun.

Brendan shivered suddenly as he wondered what Lucas' suit must feel like. He had a pretty good tolerance for extreme temperatures, but even he had to admit that this water wasn't as warm as he was used to in Hoenn. Maybe his return could wait for a few moments, he thought as he dropped the board on the sand and ran over to get his towel. Rubbing his body down for a few seconds felt much better. Then his eyes alighted on the now half-empty pack of bottles he had brought - when did _that_ happen? - and, thinking he had better not miss his chance, grabbed one and began drinking.

Lucas could only wonder what the hell Brendan was playing at. True, his suit was living up to the hype, and he thought he could stay in here forever, but he was determined to get on his board at some point. He could even get on it right now. It wasn't that he was nervous or anything. He definitely didn't feel he should keep an eye on how Brendan did it for fear he would otherwise screw it up in front of everyone.

Eventually, Brendan returned, pushing his board out once more. Lucas tensed up and tightened his grip on his own board. He was a good surfer, dammit. He'd taken _classes_. He could show Brendan up any day.

Brendan turned around a little way in front of Lucas. He clasped the edges of his board, just like Lucas was. Hauling himself up onto the board just like Lucas did, initially lying flat, allowing the wave to carry him, then bringing his knees up into a crouching position, and at that point Lucas felt his own board give an alarming wobble. No. He could do this, just keep calm. Follow Brendan's - that is, focus on keeping balance, place your feet carefully, then shakily let go and -

"YAAARRRRGGHH!"

"AAAAAGH!"

"Whaaaa!?"

An ocean's worth of salt water flooded Lucas's upside down, open mouth as his board was abruptly wrenched from under his body, the guttural scream still ringing in his ears as he frantically paddled upwards, choking as soon as he could feel air again, before the next wave came upon him and left him floundering in a panic for a few more seconds. One of his flailing hands hit something warm and he seized upon it, dimly aware of some more shouting above the surface before he was finally able to break through, expel the remaining water and wipe his streaming eyes with his other hand.

At least he hadn't been the only one to fall off his board. Sheepishly letting go of Brendan's wrist, his eyes scanned around for either his own board or the cause of all the chaos. He swiftly located one attached to the other.

"BA -" he attempted to scream, before he was caught by another coughing fit. He vaguely felt Brendan's hand rubbing his back, but was too weak to protest. Wiping his eyes again, he took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in forever and focused again on the grinning figure holding the back of his surfboard. He may have been nearly unrecognisable with his hair wet, but there was no doubting his identity.

" _Barry_ ," he breathed out, meaning for it to be louder, but his throat didn't seem to feel like cooperating. "When I catch you, I'm going to -"

He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do, but Barry didn't give him a chance anyway. With one last snigger he disappeared beneath the waves again and swam off at impressive speed, leaving Lucas to stroke towards his abandoned board, wallowing in the bitter taste of vengeance and seawater. Mostly seawater.

Maybe a drink didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

* * *

Red's head jerked around when the screaming started. Lucas and Brendan appeared to have got into a spot of bother further out. He had just enough time to hope that nobody would have to rescue them when Blue, ever the ruthless opportunist, seized him from behind in a headlock and dunked him.

Red struggled as hard as he could but Blue held firm, his chest pressing into Red's shoulders and feet barely avoiding Red's own flailing limbs as he worked to keep both of them afloat. After a few seconds, he relented and loosened his grip, but didn't move as Red's head broke the surface again and he gasped for breath.

"Say, I do hope Brendan's all right," Blue murmured into Red's hair. Red didn't need to see his face - he could _hear_ the smirk.

"You - fucker -" Red managed to get out between gasps, displaying his admirable command of the language.

"Oh, am I? What does that make you, then?" Blue purred, his smirk growing ever wider. Confident that Red was still too weak to defend himself, he allowed his hands to wander downwards, lightly tracing the lines of Red's stomach, and then without any warning he clenched hard around the bulge in the front of Red's skintight shorts.

Red let out a squeak and lurched backwards, his legs kicking out in front of him, but Blue's grip would not be budged. Red was now pressing his own back against Blue's front, and Blue felt a rare flash of regret at the height difference. What worked perfectly on land was inverted in water, with their heads at the same height but Red's backside rubbing uselessly against his navel. Still, he wasn't going to let Red get the upper hand no matter what, and he upped the ante by moving his thumb gently over the trapped curve of Red's rapidly stiffening shaft. With his little fingers, still maintaining his grip, he began to fondle Red's balls through the spandex. He was unable to resist the gentle sigh that went into Red's hair as he felt the gonads recoil under his touch.

He'd let his guard down too far. Emboldened by Blue's display of arousal, Red seized the opening and jabbed his elbows back. He startled Blue more than hit him, but it was enough to wriggle free and swim sideways while Blue tried to clear his head. When Blue looked around again, Red was gone. All he saw were Brendan and Lucas, who thankfully appeared to have missed the entire thing and were now heading inshore.

But Red wasn't done yet. His mind set firmly on payback, he had swum around Blue, taken one last deep breath and ducked under the water. Arms outstretched to avoid Blue's kicking feet, he homed in on his target with deadly accuracy. The first Blue knew about it was when his nether regions suddenly felt a lot more exposed and his trunks were tying together his thighs.

Red surfaced and seized Blue from behind in one smooth motion before realising that Blue didn't seem to be putting up any resistance yet. As Red's lips met his jawline, he chuckled. "Don't you want to finish the job?"

Hesitantly, but with purpose, Red dragged his body forward and Blue's body back until they met in the middle, in the inverse of their earlier position. A moment's more hesitation passed before Red deliberately inched his still tented crotch forward, his whole body giving a small spasm as the tip made contact with the small of Blue's back.

Although Red was technically in the dominant position now, there was no secret about who was still in control. Gently but persuasively, Blue moved one of his hands on top of Red's - using his other to help keep them afloat - and prised it off his chest, guiding it downwards until it was resting flat just above his exposed groin, where he left it for Red to undertake the rest of the journey for himself. As soon as Red got the hint, he slowly began pushing towards the goal, fingers dragging through pubic hair until - and Blue felt the lump digging into his back give another twitch at that second - they closed around the base of Blue's semi-hard cock.

"Are you gonna do it?" Blue goaded Red, still in the same taunting murmur. "Are you gonna jerk me off in the sea, where anyone could see us?"

"You wish," muttered Red, trying to sound controlled but unable to entirely smooth out the slight wobble in his voice. His fingers made no attempt to move further up Blue's shaft, but slowly massaged the base, paying special attention to where his little and ring fingers met the join onto the hairy scrotum. Blue's dick stiffened slightly with every new manipulation, until it was pointing straight out and gently throbbing. Red's own dick pulsed a couple more times, and the second time he could not stop his back muscles from contracting a single time and dragging his painfully confined boner up Blue's spine. The humping motion made his penis twitch twice more in rapid succession while the hand resting atop Blue's dick pushed down in reaction to the upwards force. He felt a small spurt of precum, almost scalding hot under the cold ocean waters, leak out of his tip, and from the way Blue's grunt joined his gasp he knew that the same thing had happened to him.

"Well?" Blue breathed one last time. "Are you gonna?" He had lost the ability to keep up his smarmy facade; every syllable dripped with raw arousal.

On some level - scratch that, on most levels - Red knew he wanted to say yes. It was stupid and it was dangerous and it was all he needed right now. But there was still something holding him back. A line that shouldn't be crossed. A line that merely seemed to get redrawn in a different place every time he did cross it, but how often had he thought about it, really? How often did Blue ask for what he wanted instead of just taking it? Red knew he had had plenty of opportunities to say no before, and yet the word never quite seemed to make it as far as his lips. But now he was being asked to initiate and he didn't know if he could handle it, and everything was new and terrifying and his head was spinning so fast that his mouth had said, "No," before his brain had remembered what the word meant.

"Fine then." Blue easily slipped back into his standard flippant mode, slithering out of the stunned Red's arms in an eyeblink and reaching down for his trunks. "If you're not going to do it I'm sure I can find someone else."

Red could only manage isolated syllables as he tried to simultaneously process both what he had just done and how Blue could just so trivially switch gears like that. Denied its stimulation, his cock continued to throb. Blue looked up from meticulously repacking his own hard-on back into his skimpy outfit so that it laid across the top of his leg, and offered another prompt.

"I'm thirsty. I'm going back to the beach before Barry drinks us all out of house and home."

That shook Red out of his stupor. "But what about - you know - aren't you -" He gesticulated uselessly under the opaque water, but Blue got the idea anyway and hoisted that smirk back on his face.

"If you have a problem with that that's your business," he said. " _Some_ of us can practice basic boner control."

Red didn't seem to have an answer for that, and let Blue swim off while he tried to sort through the jumble in his head.

* * *

Lucas had gobbled down two bottles of Brendan's nasty-ass supermarket pop and didn't even regret it. Seawater, it turned out, was a wonderful perspective changer.

He was starting to get slightly concerned for another reason, though. How exactly did one go to the toilet in this thing? It definitely didn't have any flies, and right now his bladder appeared to be firmly encaged behind a thick layer of lycra that probably took nearly as long to take off again as it had to put on. Faced with an awkward question that he couldn't provide an answer to, Lucas opted to follow his tried and tested strategy and pushed it out of his mind.

Brendan was heading towards the water again, so he seized his surfboard and ran off after him before he was in danger of being left behind. He passed Blue coming the other way, his eyes apparently set on the rapidly dwindling drinks supply. One advantage to wearing a costume so revealing, Lucas thought before he had time to wonder where the thought came from, must be that it's really easy to just take your dick out for a piss anywhere. This was not a clothing design priority he had ever considered before and he didn't know why he just had. He blinked twice and shook his head slightly, redoubling his pace to keep up with Brendan. The hand not holding his board unconsciously kneaded his crotch for a second or two.

Meanwhile, the sandcastle was beginning to look as glorious as Gold promised it would. He insisted that there was so much more than could still be added, but Wally's legs were stiff from kneeling down for so long, and he wanted to take a break. He didn't mention to Gold that one of the reasons he had barely moved from his position was because of how long it had taken to persuade the hard lump in his shorts to deflate, but diligent concentration and Gold shifting to a kneeling position had enabled it to at least soften to the point that he wouldn't poke Gold's eye out if he stood up now. If he could just find a spot where nobody was looking at him for one second he could slip his hand under his waistband and flip the disobedient appendage into a less compromising position.

Leaving Gold to guard the castle from invasion (which seemed most likely to come from Barry, who was currently running up and down the sand at breakneck speed), Wally casually wandered across the middle of the sand, no particular aim in mind. As Red strode in from the water, following Blue at some distance, he and Wally briefly made eye contact. Red hoped Wally couldn't see the bulge in the front of his own costume, which he had only managed to calm down into a disgruntled semi, or if he could then that he would assume it was just one of the fringe benefits of being slightly taller and hairier. He did not suspect that Wally might have failed to notice at all, thanks to being too preoccupied about how much Red could see of his own similar problem.

Wally's fears were also unjustified, partly for the same reason, partly because his costume was less revealing anyway but mostly because Blue chose that moment to turn around and give a cocky salute with the hand that wasn't holding the remaining bottle of Jolteon Cola. To Red's frustration, there was no evidence of a bulge in the even more revealing swimsuit at all. It really did take a surprising amount of mental discipline to be that much of a jerk.

Out in the waves, Lucas knew it was now or never. Brendan was already standing up on his board, a little way in front as usual, and Lucas's knuckles were still white around the edge of his alarmingly swaying board. He had managed to pull his feet up, but he had to get out of this crouching position before it was too late. It wouldn't do for the best surfer to wash up at the beach clinging on for dear life. Brendan made it look easy, and if Brendan could do it, how hard could it be? Just had to let go, and put his arms out for balance, and get his feet positioned right, and nearly unbalance and tip over but somehow he was still on top, he was _doing_ this, he knew he could do this, and straighten his knees out slightly, and while to any disinterested onlooker his nervous, wobbly approach to the beach wasn't a patch on Brendan's smooth glide in his mind it was the best surf that had ever been done, and for the first time he felt a moment of genuine ecstasy overtake him, and that was when his concentration broke.

All heads on the beach turned around at the sudden cry. Even Barry skidded to a halt to watch as Lucas, terror etched on his face, pitched forward off his board, heading inexorably in Brendan's direction. Brendan himself, who was still standing on his board as it landed on the sand, looked over his shoulder but couldn't react quick enough. Lucas's hands instinctively shot forward, trying to grab something, anything, to arrest his descent. They found something.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Lucas's fists gripped the legs of Brendan's shorts and exerted the full weight of Lucas's body on them. The waistband slid over Brendan's hips, fell past his groin, lightly grazed the tip of his junk and then came to rest around his knees as Lucas's fists hit the ground, before falling the rest of the distance to his ankles under gravity. There was a single second for his brain to process what had just happened and react. Wally's brain involuntarily recorded every detail of that silent second: the way Brendan's flaccid penis bounced slightly from the momentum; the lines of two perfectly smooth thighs meeting at an equally smooth and somewhat retracted ballsack; the merest flash of comfort that at least Wally didn't seem to be the only one who hadn't grown any pubes yet. Then it was gone, hidden behind the two fists snapped in front of Brendan and clamped over his crown jewels.

Blue was the first to laugh. It spread through most of the rest of the group except for Wally, who was still frozen in place with his mouth slightly open, and Lucas, who seemed to wish that a Tentacruel would show up and drag him to the bottom of the ocean right now. Luckily, Barry was laughing hard enough for all three of them. Even Brendan joined in, bending over slightly, his face flushed but with a sheepish grin.

"You go get him, Lucas! I know you want a piece of that ass!" Blue hollered. Silver followed up with a wolf-whistle that pierced right through Wally's stupor. Panicking, he realised that his stiffy had returned with a vengeance, and was sticking straight out making a tent in his shorts. Mercifully, the centre of attention was elsewhere right at that moment, but he had to take urgent action. Dropping down as fast as he dared, he laid flat on his front facing towards the ocean, resigned to hoping it would go away before he had to move.

"Don't worry!" Gold was heckling Brendan further as, one hand still on his crotch, he bent over and started trying to drag his shorts back up. "We all know the water's cold!"

"Fuck you!" Brendan fired back, but he was still laughing. He got his shorts over his hip on one side, then reached around to the other side before finally removing the protective hand from underneath.

"I wouldn't bother, Gold, looks like he's taken!" Blue was clearly enjoying himself. Barry was still rolling around clutching his sides, and Wally still was hoping everyone would go back to minding their own business so he could concentrate on making himself presentable, or if the worst came to the worst, seeking some manual relief beneath the cover of the waves. He feared he was no longer entirely in control of his own body. His tent was digging a hole beneath him and he felt his hips thrust once, twice, desperately seeking the stimulation he could not have against the fabric of his shorts and the soft texture of the damp sand. He gave a sigh of despair and rested his heated face on his folded arms, hoping against hope that he could avoid embarrassing himself.

* * *

Lucas was much more subdued after that little spectacle. Even though technically Brendan had been the one who ended up getting embarrassed, he had taken it well and had even received a high-five from Blue, and nearly from Red too before Gold butted in to remind them all exactly where that hand had just been. That had earned him a light punch from the same hand, but it was still worth it to see the momentary look of dawning horror on Blue's face.

Lucas wasn't sure he could look a surfboard in the face for at least the rest of the day, and he was under no illusions as to the sort of teasing he would receive if he were to try. Apart from that, though, the others seemed content to let his accident pass with barely more than the occasional smirk fired in his direction, which left little to take his mind of his other impending problem.

With no surfing to focus on or Brendan to try to outdo, Lucas was filled with a growing sense that he would soon be forced to confront the toilet question. Even if his mouth no longer tasted of salt and fish crap, he was beginning to question his subsequent decision to drink quite so much. His hand drifted to his crotch once again and pinched at his imprisoned cock, a motion that was getting more frequent. He quickly looked around to make sure nobody saw.

Wally was still lying on the sand. Silver had ventured into the water for the first time, but hadn't got very far and judging by his tentative steps looked rather like he wished he had a wetsuit of his own. Blue had produced a beachball from somewhere and was organising an impromptu two-on-two game with Red, Gold and Brendan, the rules of which appeared to be somewhat indeterminate. Barry seemed unusually calm as he picked his way through water that came halfway to his knees, seemingly looking for something.

Lucas paced through the water, following in Barry's footsteps in some vague hope of taking his mind off things. The germ of an idea formed in his brain as he remembered Barry's direct responsibility for his previous downfall. Even if it did seem to have been somewhat eclipsed by the later incident, he had sworn vengeance and he wasn't about to go back on his word.

Darting to the side into deeper water, he kept his eyes firmly locked on Barry. He crouched down and began swimming as silently as he could in water just deep enough to permit it, watching as Barry came to a halt facing towards the shore. He wasn't sure why Barry seemed to be acting almost furtively, but he knew he was about to get the fright of his life.

As Lucas slowly approached, Barry sat down himself, with only his knees and torso above the water. Lucas crept silently towards Barry's back, the water slipping smoothly around his high-tech suit and leaving his body mostly untouched by the cold. Only his hands, feet and face were exposed to the ambient temperature, and he was almost touching Barry when he noticed something a little off.

Then Barry looked around, and Lucas started with a splash. He'd hesitated for too long. Barry didn't seem the least perturbed, however, or have any inkling of why Lucas was here. He simply flashed his trademark grin with a, "Hi, Lucas!"

Lucas stood up, defeated. Standing right next to Barry, with only his feet exposed to the water, he noticed it again. He'd spent a decent amount of time in this sea, and even in the shallow areas, he couldn't remember it being quite this warm before. And why was the foot closer to Barry slightly warmer than the other one?

It took Lucas about five seconds to put two and two together. Even then, he hoped he was wrong.

"Are you _peeing_?"

Barry was still looking up at him, and his grin got wider. He nodded enthusiastically.

A quite unmanly shriek ripped its way out of Lucas' throat as he leapt out of the water, attracting the attention of everyone on the beach. Even Wally looked up at Lucas standing shaking on the sand, waving both feet around in turn as if he hoped they would drop off from his body. And to add to his woes, the sudden refocusing of his mind on the subject of pee had thrown his own bladder problems into sharp relief.

"What's going on?" Gold called over, making his way along with the rest of his group to see what the excitement was.

Lucas jabbed an accusatory finger over at Barry's sitting form. "He's - he's peeing in the water!"

The reaction wasn't quite what he had hoped. "So what?" Silver shrugged, although Lucas noticed that he too had exited the water. "Where else is there to pee around here?"

"Yeah, and fish pee in there all the time," Brendan added helpfully.

Barry hadn't been counting on an audience of this size, but he was finding the whole thing hilarious, especially Lucas' reaction. A fit of the giggles began to overtake him, and then, to Lucas' visible horror, he stood up.

He had made no attempt to take his swimming shorts off, and was peeing inside them. Lucas' bladder gave an almighty lurch as he saw the dual cascades of mostly clear liquid pour out of the loose hems between Barry's knees, splashing into the water a few inches below. Barry was nearly doubled over with hysterical giggling, but he was making sure to keep his legs fully visible.

"Yup, that's pee alright," Blue said flippantly. Silver had already lost interest and had laid on his back on the sand near to Wally. Wally's face was burning hot but he was unable to rip his eyes away from the urinating Barry, and for some reason his boner was beginning to pulse ever more desperately, the mesh inside his shorts becoming slick with precum.

Lucas' hand shot to his crotch once again, despite everyone looking, as he felt a little spurt of pee suddenly jet against the inside of his own costume. He'd held it way too long, but he hadn't been counting on this.

"Geez, Barry, how much did you drink?" Gold asked, sounding almost impressed.

"Think of how much you caught me drinking, then double it," Barry said through his giggles, the torrent still showing no sign of abating.

"Anyone else need to go?" Silver droned sarcastically, still resolutely facing up into the sky. "Might as well get it over with, while we're making a spectacle out of it."

Lucas clenched his fist tighter, almost crushing his genitals, even though he was conscious of how many eyes were on him. Despite his efforts, he felt a couple more drops leak out and pool somewhere inside his foreskin.

By way of a reply to Silver's comment, Red spread his legs slightly, making sure Blue could see him, then relaxed. It wasn't easy in this pose, with an audience and with his cock still in his trunks, but soon he was able to start relieving his own bladder. Denied an exit through the skintight legholes, he felt the urine pooling beneath his balls before it began to soak through the fabric, exiting in a single weak series of dribbles that fell between his legs and splattered on the sand.

"Eww!" Blue half-laughed, making as if to push him towards the water at arm's length. Red skipped out of the way easily and jumped into the sea, closely pursued by Blue. Lucas, faced with bladder stimulation on both sides, was struck by blind panic. He couldn't piss himself, and he especially couldn't do it with everyone else here. He had to get out of here. The hotel was his only hope. It had been a terrible idea coming out here anyway, where he knew there were no toilets, and he wasn't about to pee like some filthy animal. He launched himself towards the stairs and took off down the track at a run.

Brendan and Gold took off after him, leaving Wally alone, who was in serious trouble. Try as he might, he couldn't stop his hips from moving. He was more aroused than he had ever been in his life, and his immediate goals had had to be downgraded from successfully suppressing his boner to not having a full-blown orgasm there in front of everyone. His cock twitched frantically inside the cavity it had dug in the sand, and every scrape of his urethra against the increasingly soaked mesh of his shorts only added to the feedback loop and tipped him perilously closer to the edge.

And yet he still couldn't stop staring at Barry. And now he was the only one looking at Barry, and now Barry was looking back with a mischievous glint in his eye. Wally suddenly remembered the way their eyes had met earlier and knew instantly what was coming next, but he was still powerless to either stop it or look away as Barry, in one swift motion, dropped his shorts to his knees and exposed his still-urinating penis to the open air. Relieved of its confinement, his stream splashed noisily into the shallow water, the exact point of impact swinging back and forth slightly in time with his dick. And then he grabbed the base of his dick with his thumb and forefinger and flipped it rapidly up and down a few times causing the stream to go everywhere, landing on the sand at its apex. When he stopping waggling it, the foreskin had been pulled back, exposing the head and the slit from which piss continued to pour. Wally's entire body spasmed as his dick begged for exactly the kind of manual stimulation Barry was giving himself, and with rising panic, he felt his balls contract and semen begin to work its way up his shaft.

Barry pulled his shorts back up again after a few seconds, just as his stream began to abate at last. He was just in time, for Gold and Brendan were on their way back, having apparently given up on the notion of chasing after Lucas. Wally was teetering on the brink, both hands clenched around fistfuls of sand, his testicles pulled up and his erection near-permanently tensed for a release he could not give it. He felt a single hot glob of sperm slowly squeeze itself out and feared that all might be lost, but with Barry ending his show it didn't seem to have any more sizeable squirts following along behind. He even dared hope that he might have escaped with only minor catastrophe, although finding a secluded place to get off properly was probably now his only viable option.

And then Gold happened. Gold, with his stupid baggy shorts and no underwear and almost wilful lack of situational awareness. Gold sat down directly in front of Wally, with his legs crossed and the legs of his shorts as wide open as ever.

Gold was apparently here to ask a question. "Do you want to get back to that sandcastle now?"

Wally wanted more than anything else in the world to be able to offer more than an incoherent moan as an answer. His eyes were lined up perfectly with the inside of Gold's thighs, and now he was closer than he had ever been before. Mere inches separated him from a crystal clear view of Gold's sack, hanging loosely from the heat of the sun, two medium-sized balls resting within, one slightly lower than the other. And this time he could see Gold's penis as well, about the same length as his sack, soft but pointing upwards thanks to the pose he had sat down in.

"Eh?" said Gold.

The slight motion was all that it took to dislodge Gold's dick. Wally's stomach dropped as his eyes traced the organ falling down under its own gravity, coming to rest atop his left testicle, and behind it was revealed a light dusting of black pubic hair atop Gold's genitals, and with one last involuntary hip movement Wally knew his fight was over. He let out another, alien, noise, somewhere between a grunt and a gasp, raw terror flashing in his eyes as he felt his balls contract one more time. His groin quivered and his erection jerked, the glans scrabbling around in the accumulated pool of his own precum. Even as he felt the inevitable tingle spark through every nerve in his body he tried to fight it, but the semen now flooding through his shaft had its own ideas about where it should go.

With a sensation that was equal parts pleasure and pain, Wally felt the first blast of cum fire out of the head of his cock, only to be immediately stopped by the waterproof fabric pressed directly against it and splatter backwards inside his shorts. He moaned loudly, totally unable to control himself, as the first was followed by a second, then a third, each at least as powerful as the first. His hips rolled up and down, his shorts rucked up halfway along his thighs and his butt muscles clenching. Shots four, five and six followed, although he was barely aware of it; his mind had gone blank with humiliation and arousal. His spewing boner jerked frantically, the tip thrashing about in its own fluids, his balls still churning mercilessly. By the time a somewhat weaker shot seven made its way out, the groin of his shorts was completely saturated with fresh spunk. It felt as though the head of his dick was entirely submerged, and yet still his orgasm didn't seem to be quite over yet, as his balls exacted revenge for having gone unstimulated across so many sexy sights for so long.

Finally, shot eleven was followed only by what would presumably have been a cum dribble if there had been anything left to dribble onto. Wally's genitals were raw to the touch, his shorts were completely soaked and he knew that if he stood up now then all of the fluid he had just ejaculated would come pouring down his legs. The sensation of being more aroused than ever before in his life dissipated at last, leaving all the rest of his psyche open to takeover by complete and utter mortification.

Gold watched all of this open-mouthed. Although all he could see was Wally's flushed and contorted face, and his small backside moving up and down, his friend was definitely making some very strange noises, and he thought he heard the muffled sound of fluids being fired at high velocity against a sheet of fabric. He wasn't entirely sure what he should do, but his instincts told him that Wally needed some alone time. A twitch from down below alerted him to the exposed position his own nads were in, and he couldn't help but wonder if that had had anything to do with what just happened.

Wally didn't seem to be in a position to pay attention to anything right now, but Gold stood up before his cock could extend too far anyway. He was torn between sympathy and the desire to tease regarding Wally's plight, while a smaller part of him waged a battle over whether he should be angry that someone had ogled his bits without his consent, or aroused that they had apparently cum just from the sight. That said, he definitely appeared to be in the less compromising position right now.

Still with no idea what to say, he decided to walk away without saying anything. There was no possible way he could make this less awkward, and his heart wasn't in trying to make it worse.

Instead, he strode towards Silver, who was still staring at the sky like he was trying to challenge it to a Pokémon battle. But was his face a little bit red? How much had he picked up, Gold wondered, swiftly followed by, what colour was his own face?

An evil little thought struck him. He wanted Silver's attention, and now he knew how to get it. Silver refused to react as Gold loomed above him, then Gold carefully planted his feet either side of Silver's face, offering him a direct view up his shorts. He couldn't see it from this angle, but it would have given him great satisfaction to know that Silver's eyeball twitched.

"What're you doing down there?" he inquired smoothly. He dared to wiggle his hips ever so slightly side to side, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Topping up on the tan? Oh wait, you don't tan, do you, you're -"

Silver wasted no time in his reaction. A hand shot out and seized Gold by his ankle. Gold cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise and tried to move his foot, but Silver's grip was relentless until he had hauled himself halfway up and switched to crushing Gold's wrist instead.

"What're you -"

"Change of plan," Silver cut him off with a growl. He jerked Gold forward behind him and Gold's legs sprang into action to avoid being dragged. He was hauling the two of them off to the rocky area beyond the beach.

"Plan? Oh, d'you mean the - oww!" Gold finished as Silver twisted his wrist slightly. "Don't talk about it here," Silver elaborated in a low hiss, looking back with fire in his eyes.

Resigned to silence, Gold allowed himself to be led behind the rocks, hoping that Wally would make good use of his time alone on the sand.

* * *

Brendan had, fortunately, missed all of this. While Gold diverted towards Wally in the hopes of getting the sandcastle project going again before the tide came in, Brendan made a beeline for the sea, hoping to get some swimming done. With one last snigger, Barry turned tail and splashed as much as he could as far as he could, before swimming off somewhere in the opposite direction.

Brendan wasn't swimming to anywhere in particular, although he had a preference for anything that was away from Barry. He also idly thought he might empty his own bladder while he was alone out there, since he had been conscious of the need for a while. He wasn't as shameless as Barry about doing it, though. OK, that was unfair, it was obvious from what he heard and saw that Barry hadn't strictly asked for an audience, but at the same time he seemed quite happy to perform for one.

Red was more surprising, though. It wasn't that the idea of pissing his swimsuit, even out of the water, grossed him out particularly - it was literally designed to get wet, after all, and there was an ocean to wash it out in. Heck, he was probably about to do the same. Although he'd never admit it, Gold's crack about shrinkage back when Lucas had exposed his privates still stung a little, especially when he knew he likely wasn't as developed as most of the other people there, so fewer opportunities to apply chilly water directly to his penis were welcome. Red couldn't have any such worries; even though he knew they were about the same age, Red was already an inch or so taller and his shoulders were broader without having put in any apparent effort at all. It was already obvious Red was going to have a naturally great body while Brendan sweated along forever trying to outrun the spectre of the beanpole.

What was he thinking about? Oh, yeah. Pissing himself in front of everyone, even if they were all in a bit of a silly mood, was several levels of daring above what he had come to expect from the quiet and introverted Red. In fact it struck him as a very _Blue_ -ish thing to do. Brendan wondered about that. It had become a bit of a running joke among him and the others - while both Red and Blue were firmly out of earshot, of course - to speculate on what exactly the nature of their relationship was. At least Gold and Silver were open about it. Well, as open as Silver ever was about anything, which thankfully meant nobody had to put up with lovey-dovey scenes in public. But Red refused to define himself, even as they could all tell he and Blue were drawing closer together and spending more time between closed doors with each other, always of course with a legitimate excuse. Even Silver had taken to making sarcastic remarks about having "discussed training strategies" with Gold the previous night. Blue, unusually, had remained stony-faced throughout the bout of smirking that ensued from that one.

Brendan decided that was far enough, stopped swimming and attempted to relax. It took about ten seconds before he realised that trying to focus on peeing while simultaneously treading water in the ocean waves was one of the less viable plans he had ever come up with, so he resigned himself to making his way to shallower waters. Now that he looked back towards the shore, he realised that he was almost directly opposite Red and Blue, who appeared to be sitting down together in the shallows, facing each other at what any neutral observer would describe as a suspiciously close distance, and Brendan was no neutral observer. They seemed to have eyes only for each other, and Brendan couldn't help but wonder how close he could get in order to satisfy his curiosity.

He felt his feet touch the sea bed and stood there, his head just above the surface. Trying once again to relax, he felt the pressure finally ease off as warmth flooded through his shorts. He'd never done this underwater before and it was a rather peculiar feeling, sensing the fierce current exiting his dick, promptly slamming into his shorts and being diffused backwards, swirling around his shrivelled nuts before dissipating around his knees. At the same time, he could see why Barry had done it; it felt extraordinarily liberating. His mind now taken off his immediate problem, he realised for the first time that he was just about within earshot of Blue.

"So why did you do it, then?" Blue was clearly trying to be secretive, but with no other noises but the distant breaking of the waves his naturally loud voice carried rather well. Brendan strained his ears for Red's reply, before concluding he would have to move closer.

Still peeing, and careful not to disrupt the flow, Brendan inched forward along the seabed.

"Do you know what you did?" OK, that was a tone that could definitely be described as _sultry_ , even by Blue's usual standards. Brendan felt his heart jump slightly as, unbidden, his mind started considering what it must be like to be in Red's place right now.

Red was nervous as all hell. Blue had chased him out here even while professing to be disgusted. All the motion had forced him to stop peeing and he hadn't had a chance to restart yet, although the pressure was a bit better now. He supposed he could try and relax right here, kneeling down in front of Blue, but not only was Blue's steely stare making that quite difficult but he feared the consequences if he did.

He probably knew the answer to the latest interrogation. Even if it was difficult to put into words exactly what had gone through his mind, he'd just got caught up in the excitement and he needed a piss anyway and he was still slightly salty about Blue's superhuman boner control and all of those things just kind of came together before he could think about it. This wasn't how he normally acted, was it? What had Blue done to him, the last time they had been alone together out here in the waves?

What was Blue about to do to him?

"Would you like to find out what you did?" Blue pressed the issue further, the unmistakably seductive tone in his voice sending tingles up and down Red's spine and setting his heart pounding. He still hadn't managed to vocalise a response, but Blue noticed his blush and took it as read. A set of long, strong fingers clasped around one of Red's fists that were clenched atop his thighs. He allowed his fingers to be prised apart and his arm guided forward, and down, and it belatedly hit him exactly where it was going a second before it arrived.

With a jolt that ran up his arm and then through his entire body, Red's palm made contact with something solid. Not even noticing that Blue had removed his own guiding fingers, Red's hand unconsciously moved back and forth a little, massaging the rounded point against the centre of his palm until it suddenly gave a little jerk and Blue did a sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah, just like that," he growled, although Red barely heard it. His hand began to wander further of its own accord, moving down from the obscenely tented front of Blue's speedos to trace the waistband, currently sticking an inch or so out from Blue's groin with the force of his hard-on, whose tip Red continued to inadvertently massage with the underside of his wrist. He drew back, resisting the temptation to dive right into the gap between Blue's pubes and his costume, and dragged a finger precisely over the part of the fabric concealing Blue's cock slit. Blue hissed louder at that, before it became a sigh as Red began to trace the sides of his shaft, finishing between his thighs and rubbing his fingers over the twin bulges of Blue's pulsating balls.

Growing bolder, he moved his hand back up again, over the top of Blue's thighs where the speedo no longer quite met them thanks to the force of his erection. Then he slipped his fingers through one of the legholes and made direct contact with Blue's cock for the first time, three fingers running along the top side of the shaft, which jumped some more and Blue let out an actual _moan_ and then suddenly his hand was yanked back by the wrist.

"Not yet you don't," Blue murmured in a not quite steady voice, clearly trying to retain some control. He kept his grip on Red, who wondered what he was supposed to be doing, until Blue answered that with his other hand.

Red had been so focused on the prize before him that he had almost failed to notice how hard he had become, but Blue reminded him of that forcefully when the hand descended upon the bulge in his trunks. A strangled noise of some description escaped his lips as Blue moved his cupped hand around in circles, taking in every detail of his confined boner - still pointing downwards from his earlier attempt to conceal it - and the tips of his fingers poking at the edges of his balls.

"Uh -" Red began, not sure how to proceed. Blue shut him up without a word by moving his hand to Red's stomach, then peeling away the upper edge of his costume. He shuffled forward slightly to get a better angle, and Red became horribly conscious of just how close their faces were. Thankfully Blue was still looking down, concentrating on slipping his fingers underneath Red's trunks, pausing for a moment to feel his bush with what Red thought might have been a look of approval, before jamming his hand down as far as it would go so that the palm wrapped around Red's dick and the tip of the middle finger was just about touching his moist slit.

Whether by accident or design, Blue's other hand had fallen away from Red's wrist, and Red allowed his own hand to drift back towards Blue's tent. He encountered little resistance as he dived through the top, stretching out the elastic as far as it would go to free Blue's erection from its prison. His palm resumed its original position covering Blue's dick head, which even through the water he could tell was slippery with arousal.

"Enough messing about," Blue grunted, breaking the silence at last. He looked up and their eyes met once again, sending a shiver through Red's body and a twitch through his cock, which was matched by a tell-tale jump in Blue's dick, pumping more warm precum into his palm. He thought he saw a flash of something desperate in Blue's eyes, a needy look that was quite alien to his face, and he had just enough time to contemplate exactly how many lines he was crossing now before Blue grabbed his back and used it to pull himself forward through the water. Red's hand was knocked off Blue's dick by force and surprise as Blue settled himself squarely on his lap, legs floating off to either side of Red's torso and his freed erection grazing Red's sternum.

Blue wasn't finished yet. "Stop kneeling," he demanded in frustration, his face now close enough for Red to feel his breath on his nose and both arms wrapping around Red's shoulders. Red was too stunned to do anything but comply, taking advantage of the weightlessness of being underwater to free his legs with relative ease and spreading them straight out, leaving his bulging groin wide open to attack. Blue settled into the newly available space, making sure to glide over as many sensitive areas with his balls as he could as he floated down into his final position.

Red's covered dick and Blue's exposed dick were now directly touching each other, but Red couldn't even think about that as Blue looked directly into his eyes with a hungry glare. They considered each other for a moment or two, before Blue gave another instruction: "Get on top."

Blue let go and floated back a little way as Red scrambled to reposition himself, any potential thoughts of refusal long since cleansed from his mind. The water made the disentanglement process a lot easier, and within a few seconds Red found himself floating down onto Blue's crotch. The new position made the height difference much less noticeable, and with a swooping feeling in his stomach, Red realised that Blue had made sure their eyes were perfectly level.

Red was transfixed by Blue's gaze and the warmth of his heavy breathing. For five full seconds the two of them remained motionless, Blue apparently waiting for Red to do something, but Red was too petrified to move. Eventually Blue moved one of his hands back down to Red's groin, slipped it under his trunks and seized his boner. This time, however, he didn't stop there. Red gasped as Blue began working his penis out of its confines, finally leaving it sticking straight up out of his costume in the same way as Blue's.

Wordlessly, Blue began to slowly move his hand up and down. The skin of Red's cock bunched up around the head before being gently but firmly dragged back down again. Red's breath began to shake, the full weight of the realisation of what was happening settling upon him. His hand moved of its own accord, grasping for the hand wrapped around his cock and ineffectually settling on top of it. Blue seemed to take this as a prompt to reach out with his other hand, barely breaking his stroke, grab that hand and place it back onto its old position on Blue's exposed cock, but this time with a silent understanding between the two of them that it was there to the finish.

The combination of the stimulation of both having his own dick in someone else's hand and someone else's dick in his own hand seemed to snap Red out of his daze, and he wrapped his fingers around Blue's glans without needing further prompting. He still hesitated a moment before he moved his fist downwards, but as soon as he began it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if the stars above had destined his hand to be there, slowly but regularly pumping, thoughts of bringing his best friend to orgasm crowding out everything else in his mind.

As soon as Blue was satisfied that Red had let his guard down, he moved in. Still careful not to break his stroke, he leaned forward ever so slightly, closing the remaining gap between their faces, and if Red had planned on letting out a startled cry or gasp then it was quickly swallowed by Blue's lips clamping down on his, his free hand moving up to massage Red's shoulders, his other hand perhaps clenching a little harder than he had intended thanks to the rush of new sensations coursing through his body. He felt Red's hand jerk roughly around his cock, stimulating him in new ways, or maybe that was just the sudden onslaught of hormones talking.

After a few seconds of rough, unpractised, yet incredible lip-mashing, Blue came up for air and revealed his own flushed complexion to his equally crimson counterpart. A smile crept onto his lips, less of a smirk, not exactly a sneer, not strictly even a grin of relief. He just couldn't stop himself from feeling happy that Red was there, with him, sharing an intimate moment (probably) willingly, and the feeling was amplified when he saw Red's lips crack into a smile that mirrored his own, as if they were feeding off each other. It was a very odd new sensation and he wasn't sure if he could get used to it. He decided to distract himself by redoubling his efforts on Red's cock.

The two of them settled into a rhythm, thoughts on nothing else but getting each other off, faces turned downwards and breath going faster and fists pumping with ever greater determination. Red's cock was leaking fluid like crazy, and he knew Blue's was too from all the times he accidentally on purpose swiped his thumb over the slit at the apex of his stroke. Blue's dick jumped around in his hand, any pretence at being in control long abandoned. Red could feel his balls starting to pull up, at least to the greatest extent possible in the cold water, but resisted the temptation to climax early lest it all be over too soon.

Blue didn't attempt another kiss, needing to focus all his energies on bringing Red over the edge without arriving there too soon himself. He was becoming acutely conscious of the gap between being able to bluff competently and actually having experience in a matter. Red's inclination to quietness was working in his favour here, with barely anything audible above his heavy breathing, whereas Blue, try as he might, couldn't stop the occasional guttural moan and gasp from letting itself out. He slowed down his pace slightly, hoping Red would take his lead, and to his relief he felt the hand on his junk match the new pace, giving him a bit of breathing room to try and will the rush of semen back down his shaft.

Red couldn't see how close Blue was to losing control, being too busy trying not to get there himself. Every time Blue emitted an involuntary vocalisation it travelled right to his dick, pulsing in Blue's grasp, and he swore he could feel the sperm swimming an inch further towards freedom. No matter what he did, he wasn't going to last long, and the best he could hope for was to take in all the sensations he could before that point. He'd never noticed Blue's smell before. His real smell, that was, not that flowery aftershave he liked that had thankfully long since been washed off by the sea. He couldn't describe it in words, except possibly for the single word "sexy", but in that moment it seemed to encapsulate everything about Blue and why Red had found himself here with him, masturbating each other like there was no tomorrow. It brought a whole new meaning to "smell ya later", that was sure.

The incongruity of the thought that crossed Red's brain caused a sudden giggle to escape him, and that caused Blue to look up in surprise. Their eyes met once again, and maybe Red was seized with the same burst of insanity that had ultimately led him out here in the first place, but he acted on impulse and locked his lips around Blue's. It only lasted for a second, but when he pulled back, the fire in Blue's eyes told him they both knew it was over.

Their hands were a blur beneath the surface, cocks throbbing wildly. Blue felt himself barrel further over the edge than he could ever remember, and by the time he could react or say anything it was too late. His balls tingled, his penis stiffened and he felt his urethra expand, and then, with an almighty lurch that sent shockwaves through his whole body, he erupted. A cloud of milky white semen exited his tip in a torrent, with such force and quantity it looked almost like he was pissing. The force of his ejaculation caused his fist to freeze and clench around Red's dick, holding it so tightly that he could feel what was coming before it happened.

Not one second after Blue reached his peak, the added stimulation and the feeling of Blue's ejaculating cock in his hand were too much for Red. His dick gave one unmistakable pulse as his testicles finally began to void themselves. Blue was hyper-aware of every sensation in his body, and his palm registered Red's shaft beginning to fill with fast-flowing spunk a split second before it was ejected from his tip. Unlike Blue, Red's emission came in a rapid-fire series of smaller but no less forceful squirts, his cock throbbing anew in Blue's shaking fingers with each and every one.

Blue was still cumming when this happened, and if anything it felt like his orgasm had gathered pace. There was half a second's pause while his second squirt gathered its energy, feeding off the crazy sensations produced as Red's shots pushed roughly between his fingers, and then, with an awesome force that made him groan, he fired off another long rope of jizz into the increasingly cloudy water between them. This in turn made Red gasp and buck his hips harder, his sperm still fighting to escape Blue's grasp, as yet more clouds of spunk continued to rocket out of his cock and join the innumerable ones floating around, mingling with the few larger clouds firing out of Blue's.

Their orgasms prolonged each other in this manner until both Red and Blue were both sure they had lasted at least twice as long as any they had ever managed individually. By the end, Red's dick felt as if it was coughing up air, while Blue's continued to throb in his hand despite having nothing left to give. At last, they were able to relax their muscles, and their hands dropped down in unison as exhaustion overtook them. The water between their chests was almost opaque with their mixed sperm. After a few seconds to get at least some of his breath back, Blue looked down and whispered, "Phew."

Red was too tired to reply, but he was slowly becoming aware of the return of a long-suppressed sensation: self-consciousness. Had they really just done that out in the open? Had Blue been surreptitiously checking their surroundings for other people, because Red sure as hell hadn't? His eyes quickly swivelled off to either side, landing on the deserted stretch of beach, then on a particular area of water opposite them where it was just shallow enough to stand up, but Brendan was already long gone.

* * *

It was 500 metres since Lucas had left the beach behind, or 490 metres since he had first regretted not stopping to pick up his shoes.

At first, the physical activity had worked. Running as fast as he could both did wonders to close off his bladder and gave him something else to focus on. He'd shaken Gold and Brendan off his tail with ease, content to let them think that he was abandoning the day out, which to be honest he yet might. He hoped someone would collect his stuff.

Before long, though, things started to get complicated. The first factor was the road, or "the ground" to give it its proper name. He knew, theoretically, that if he kept running in this direction then he would eventually arrive at something with a toilet, and that was only because he had made the reverse journey that morning. A look at his immediate surroundings, though, would sow doubt in anyone's mind. The main factor distinguishing the track to the beach was that it had slightly fewer clumps of grass on it, and maybe the dusty soil was a bit better compacted.

He could handle that much, even if the midday sun beating down upon the exposed plain threatened to scorch his feet if he stood in one place for too long. What was worse were the stones - irregularly scattered about, with an unpleasant knack for hiding behind a dusting of earth, and while not dangerously sharp, enough to make him yelp and wince every time one of them jabbed into his bare foot. Funny how much he still had to learn about a terrain he had already traversed while wearing more than a slightly damp wetsuit - and with every shock of pain, it threatened to get damper.

But what had really killed his hopes was running out of adrenaline. Or out of all the sugar he had consumed, or both. The fact of the matter was, it was all he could do to keep placing one foot in front of another. His urgent pace had slowed to a near-crawl, one hand resting on his knee, the other now near-permanently clamped to his crotch.

He almost missed the time when he was panicking about wetting himself in front of everyone else. Ironically, it had been his best hope at a distraction from actually doing it. Now he was completely out of options - no adrenaline left to concentrate his mind, no energy left to move his legs, and nothing to think about but the growing, painful pressure.

He was at least as desperate as he had been when he leaked on the beach, plus the accumulated desperation of a few more minutes since then. It felt as if his hand was the only thing holding back the flood now gathering its forces at the base of his dick. All he could concentrate on was keeping his legs shuffling forward, and that wasn't easy when every nerve in his groin was screaming at him to cross them instead.

Lucas' panic growing, he started casting his mind around in random directions. Think of the grasslands. Think of the precious reserve of untouched nature, all the wild Pokémon that must call this environment home, far from the man-made landscapes of the cities with their concrete and their plumbing systems and their en-suite bathrooms with heated toilet seats... dammit. Think of home, think of the mountainous slopes of Sinnoh, the treacherous snowy wastes gleaming starkly in the spring sunshine, gently melting and flowing down the sides, joining foaming, swollen rivers cascading over roaring waterfalls... good grief. Think of the beach, think of Brendan, think of Red dribbling from his skintight suit and Barry letting it all flow out of his shorts legs... why did he think this was a good idea again?

Lucas' right foot landed one step ahead of his left, right above a particularly well-concealed pointy stone, which poked at him violently behind his toes. He squeaked and recoiled, the shock causing him to lose control for a terrifying second. There were no other sounds in his vicinity, allowing him to hear every detail of a burst of urine hammering against the inside of his trunks, with such force he could practically feel it massaging his palm through his wetsuit as he fought to regain his composure. He was able to stop peeing with a monumental effort that made his penis ache, but his bladder had scented weakness and now his urge was so strong he knew he couldn't hold it for longer than a couple of minutes.

He hopped from foot to foot for a few seconds, partly through desperation and partly because the ground was so hot, agonising over the consequences of his realisation. If he couldn't go longer than a couple of minutes without peeing, then he couldn't pee anywhere he couldn't get to within a couple of minutes. In practice, that meant he was going to have to pee right here. He had been dreading the prospect, but faced with the alternative, he was forced to focus on the positives. At least nobody would see him demeaning himself.

The more worrying prospect was that of getting his cock out to pee, when it was currently firmly sealed behind an expensive wetsuit that had definitely taken longer than a couple of minutes to put on. He could only hope that taking it off was quicker. He wouldn't have to do the legs, right? Just needed to get as much off as would allow a clean line of fire. He felt another rush of piss forcing its way down his shaft at the very thought of freedom, and with a small yelp, clamped both hands over his groin and squeezed as hard as he could.

He could feel rivulets of his earlier accident slowly leaking out of the legs of his trunks and trickling down between his thighs and his suit, which did nothing to take his mind off the situation he was in. His palm began unconsciously massaging his damp cock, his fingers pressed against his balls and slowly rubbing up and down. With a jolt, he felt his cock begin to grow beneath his hand, but the moment he stopped stimulating himself he felt the pressure start to increase again. Faced with little choice, he continued squeezing his fingers in and out, as his cock gradually got stiffer and stiffer until it was painfully bent against two layers of fabric, which were bulging obscenely in the front.

He thought the arousal might have helped a little; either that or he had become so desperate he was delirious. Although his erection did not seem to have any further to grow, for some reason he felt his hand moving of its own accord, inducing a pulsation that had nothing to do with pee. Barely thinking straight, but wanting to get more comfortable, he allowed his hand to fiddle with the position of his boner, coaxing it upwards against the forces of the skintight fabric, until it lay flat against his stomach, pointing straight upwards. It was long enough that his trunks couldn't contain all of it in this position, and if it hadn't been for the wetsuit then the head would have been exposed to the open air. The line of his tumescent shaft still made a noticeable vertical bulge, and without thinking, he gave it a couple of firm rubs with his fingers, letting out a gasp when it throbbed in reply.

Lucas hastily dropped his hand, remembering that he was supposed to be avoiding urination, not causing ejaculation. Shaking his head slightly to clear the fog, he tried to think back to what he was supposed to be doing, and remembered: take off the wetsuit.

The first step in that was undoing the clasp round the back of his neck, but unfortunately it was just as he reached back that his bladder decided to chip in with a reminder of how truly urgently it needed attention. His guard was let down and both hands were off his dick when, without warning, he felt a small dribble of urine fountain out of his engorged dick's exposed tip. He slammed his fists back down, settling for pressing his shaft against his groin now that he could no longer cover his genitals with one hand. The new leakage slid over his glans, trickling back down into his trunks with the last of it dripping off the underside of his balls.

Desperately, he rubbed his hands up and down some more, shutting off the flow of pee but at the expense of weakening the barrier against a flow of something else entirely. He stopped when he felt his cock jump and squeeze out a drop of precum, but he was fast running out of options. Every leak made him more desperate than before, the small amount of relief doing nothing to abate the increase in pressure from the rest of his piss trying to force its way out immediately behind. He was no longer confident that he could remove his hands without immediately wetting himself, and at the same time, the increasing sensation of dampness around his stomach, his balls, his thighs, and a little bit around his ankles, reminded him just what an increasingly obsolete measure of success "not wetting himself" was proving to be.

Try as he might, Lucas couldn't hold back the increase in numbers of areas of his brain that were focused solely on getting relief by any means necessary and getting it now. It made it nearly impossible to concentrate on either not getting relief right then or performing the necessary tasks to get relief slightly later. His addled mind had lowered his standards for success so far that he didn't immediately dismiss out of hand his next idea: wet himself deliberately, at least as much as necessary, and still be able to claim a partial victory. It couldn't be that much worse than what had already happened, and literally any proposal to lift the burning pressure was seized upon by all his impaired decision-making centres and pushed other thoughts aside.

He was in a bind either way: he couldn't remove his hands from his crotch without peeing, but he couldn't undo the clasp without putting his hands behind his neck. In many ways, the decision had been made for him. He would try to limit the damage as much as possible, but he would switch focus entirely to getting the clasp undone, for the greater good, and whatever else he may be unable to stop happening while his attention was elsewhere would just have to happen.

Lucas wasted precious further seconds psyching himself up to do it. His hard-on gently pulsed beneath his grasping fingers, but he wasn't fooled - he could feel the first drop of the next leak burning against his tip already. He gave himself a few last strokes, just to be sure, then tentatively removed his hands. For a moment he dared to hope that he might have got away with it, and he lifted his arms up jerkily, but it was as his hands raised above his shoulders that he felt it happen.

A long, continuous stream of piss started shooting out of the end of his dick. His ears were filled with the rushing noise it made as it landed on his wetsuit, his stomach now completely covered by the warm fountain, which travelled inexorably downwards and started soaking the inside of his thighs. The fact that he was so turned on only made it worse; his boner could only manage a relatively weak stream, but it felt like three times as much as that was trying to force its way painfully down his urethra, reversing any theoretical relief that may have been provided.

He worked as fast as he could, sweaty, shaking fingers slipping over each other and failing to find the bit he had to pull. Finally, a short sharp rip rang out as the zip was revealed, and almost before the sound had finished Lucas' hands were back around his cock.

He had made a terrible mistake, he now realised. There was no bargaining with his bladder; either it emptied completely or, every time it successfully emptied anything, it pushed ever harder for more. A cold sweat overcame him as he realised he couldn't stop the flow as he had done before. Instinct overcame him and he did the only thing he could, using his right hand to masturbate his urinating penis over his suit as fast as he could, while his left shot down and grabbed hold of the area concealing his nutsack. He tried not to think about the rivulets of piss coursing down over his balls as he fondled them to the best of his ability, until he felt them contract.

It had worked; he was no longer pissing, but only because he had replaced it with a different problem. Lucas teetered on the brink, simultaneously trying to will himself back from an orgasm and wary of what would happen if he was too successful. The pain in his bladder from the rude interruption was almost too much and the cooling wetness on his stomach (and now covering most of his legs) constantly reminded him of what he was denying himself. He dug the base of his thumb sideways into the vein at the base of his shaft, then hastily withdrew his hand as he felt the spasms begin.

Eyes closed, brow furrowed, standing ramrod-straight on tiptoes, the bulge in his crotch pulsating madly, Lucas performed possibly the greatest act of willpower in his life. His balls churned and his dick jerked, each jerk pumping out a squirt of precum in preparation for the main event, which even as Lucas worked to force it backwards he could feel inexorably filling his shaft... and then, with the merest of twitches, a single drop of semen forced its way out of his slit, resting there for a moment before sliding backwards down his glans and catching on his retracted foreskin, but he had won the war: no more drops followed, and the jerking died back down to a base level throb. Azelf itself would have been proud of him.

But the suppression of his orgasm only caused his bladder to redouble its pressure, and he knew he didn't have much time left. He reached behind his neck again, attempting to grasp hold of the zip, but his hands were slippery with sweat and shaking so violently that all his efforts were in vain. He felt a little squirt of piss trickle out and mingle with the sex juices coating his glans, and then another, and then more, the squirts getting so close together that it hardly seemed fair to not call them a "dribble". He bent double, still fumbling behind his neck, hopping from foot to foot before crossing one thigh in front of the other and clenching hard. The greatest effect this last act had was that it caused him to lose his balance.

Lucas' hands instinctively shot out from behind his neck to break his landing as his body tipped forward. He was so contorted already that it was less of a fall and more of a roll, but nevertheless fear spiked through him, and the last vestiges of his concentration broke, and that was all he needed. The strong stream of piss had started before he hit the ground, shooting out of his erection more forcefully than any before, and as he rolled onto his back and came to rest he knew he couldn't stop it even if he wanted to.

His mind was a complete blank. He couldn't think about how much he'd been dreading this, or how humiliating it was to wet himself, or anything except the almost orgasmic feeling of relief that flooded through his whole body. He rested his hands over his dick once again, feeling the urine thundering up his shaft, before it burst out of the tip and, still trapped behind the wetsuit, pooled in his stomach. The excess started running backwards in his new pose, coating his chest and sending dribbles down his sides. Subconsciously, he started to rub his hands up and down, seeking not to stem the flow but merely enjoying the sensations it gave.

The remainder of his piss must have lasted for at least a minute, and all the while the motion of Lucas' hands was getting more frantic, and he heard a moan that sounding nothing like him. By the time his first continuous stream concluded, his balls were starting to draw up again. There were still a couple of longer squirts to follow, and the tensing of his penis for each one felt like a mini-cum in itself. He had no concept of what he was doing, his mind ravaged by the hours of bladder torture and conflating it with sexual relief, and another moan escaped him as he frantically pawed at his crotch. Unbidden, the image of urine dripping out of the bulge in Red's crotch drifted back through his mind, except now it took on a very different tone. His cock spasmed as he found himself fantasising about being able to see through Red's trunks, pee flowing out of his larger cock which was bent awkwardly into a more or less flattering position, completely filling the confined space up and submerging the source.

Perhaps he was dimly aware of the implications of his actions, or the fact that arousing himself had ceased to be strictly necessary in the meantime, but it was overwritten by an uncontrollable focus on getting off _now_. It took maybe five seconds of his cock throbbing amidst its own piss before he felt it begin.

One final contraction of his balls signalled the start of the biggest orgasm Lucas had had in his life. His hands continued to rub roughly, stimulating the flow of spunk up his shaft, all thought of preventing it forgotten. His back arched, his throat let out some kind of strangled cry, and all his fingers and toes clenched, as the first eruption of jizz blasted against his wetsuit.

He did not stop moving his hands, and the extra stimulation lent his squirts a more violent edge. The bulge beneath his palms throbbed rapidly, each throb pumping a new spurt of cum out of the head. He moved one of his hands down to grasp hold of his pulsating balls as he continued to flood his suit with semen. The confinement soon meant that his cock slit was completely submerged in its own emission, but that didn't stop it from firing out yet more spunk in contractions so powerful it felt like his whole body was trying to fold backwards in on itself.

By the time he was nearly finished emptying himself inside his wetsuit, he was an absurd sight. His clenched shoulders and scrunched-up toes were the only part of his body touching the dusty ground, his contorted face lifted up and staring wildly at the quivering bulge in his groin, which was held up a good foot off the ground as his penis weakly squirted out the final drops of cum beneath his grasping fingers. Nearly his entire body, save for his arms, was covered in a fine coating of his own pee, held securely in place by the skintight attire that had been his downfall. Reaching up in a more or less straight line of fire from where his dick head was pointing towards his stomach, a prodigious quantity of slimy jizz slicked around his skin. His only saving grace was that none of this, save his deflating bulge, was visible from the outside, but it was all he could think about right then.

The thump Lucas' butt made as it hit the floor mirrored the weight of the realisation crashing down on him, as lucidity began to return and discovered all of his vivid memories of the events of the last two minutes still merrily replaying. He screwed his eyes shut and let his head fall back, despair washing over him, mixed with outright panic at how he was going to handle interacting with the others.

He didn't know how long he lay like that, feeling the midday sun baking his body fluids into him, but eventually he came up with something that resembled a plan. Their group had set themselves up near the end of the beach, near the point where the sand gave way to an expanse of huge rocks tumbling down into the sea. If he could cut across the plains and sneak behind those rocks, out of sight of everyone else, he could covertly wash himself off in the water and stroll back like nothing ever happened. It all depended on how well the rocks concealed what might be going on behind them.

* * *

Gold didn't think the rocks were going to conceal them adequately at all, but he recognised how much choice he didn't have in the matter as his back was pressed against a particularly large and flat stone.

"Can't we talk about this?" he joked nervously, half meaning it. Silver removed his hand from Gold's chest and looked him directly in the eyes with a glare most might write off as simple fury, but Gold was experienced enough to recognise lust when he saw it. Silver used his feet to nudge Gold's legs into line, so that Gold was standing flat against the slightly tilted surface with his knees slightly apart.

"Seriously?" Silver hissed, his voice still perfectly level. "After a display like that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gold insisted, but the playful smile creeping back onto his lips suggested otherwise.

Silver let out something that was halfway between a snort and a sigh. Gold loved winding him up, to the extent that Silver sometimes wondered if he considered it some sort of foreplay, but he wasn't going to play along. "You realise Wally just creamed his shorts looking at you, right?"

"Why on earth would you think that?" said Gold, nearly entirely failing to keep the snigger out of his voice.

"What, are you blind as well as stupid?"

"I love you too, honey."

Silver sucked air through his clenched teeth. "I suppose you're going to deny all knowledge of that promise you made last night, then."

Gold didn't reply immediately, but instead allowed one of his hands to wander out and plant itself firmly on the crotch of Silver's shorts. He was pleased to note the presence of a hard lump. "When you said you'd only come to the beach if I gave you a blowjob, I thought you'd at least wait until we got back to cash in."

Silver gently but firmly removed Gold's hand, but nevertheless drew a little closer. "Like I said," he growled, "change of plan."

Gold was genuinely perplexed at that remark, but Silver didn't leave him hanging for long. Without another word, he dropped to his knees, placed one hand on Gold's right knee and began snaking his other hand up the wide left leg opening of his shorts. He noted with pleasure the little gasp Gold made as his fingers traced over his dangling balls and closed around his not quite flaccid penis. Massaging it between finger and thumb, he pulled Gold's shorts leg up completely and jammed it behind the wrist of the hand manipulating Gold's slowly extending dick.

Before Gold could get too hard, Silver shoved his face into his crotch and seized his only opportunity to cover as much of Gold's genitals with his mouth as possible. He felt Gold give a jolt at the unexpected contact, but concentrated on tasting as much as he could reach with his mouth in one place before it was too late. As it was coated in saliva, Gold's dick accelerated its expansion and Silver knew he had only a few seconds. He was just about to graze the surface of Gold's scrotum with the tip of his tongue before he was forced to withdraw, Gold now standing at full mast.

Silver looked back up for a moment. For once he had managed to catch Gold off guard, judging by the hands over his mouth and the shocked look in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitching, he went back to work.

Gold's hard-on was still quivering millimetres from his face, but he didn't feel like giving it direct attention yet. Instead, he placed his free palm flat on the inside of Gold's smooth thigh, moving it up and down and groping a bit, admiring the muscle. At the top of his stroke, the side of his index finger brushed against the bottom of Gold's lower-hanging left testicle, which promptly recoiled of its own accord. He used the index finger and thumb of his other hand to gently stimulate the base of Gold's penis, thumb pressing against the vein above his ballsack, finger scraping over his modest pubic growth. It was after about ten seconds of that that he felt something drip onto his shorts.

Silver pulled his head back to get a clear look at the head of Gold's penis. Attached to the swollen opening was a sizeable glob of sticky precum, and dangling from that was a long string of the viscous fluid, stretching a remarkably long way before it coalesced into a precarious drop located directly above Silver's thigh, upon which this drop's predecessor was still visible. As Silver watched, Gold's urethra expanded again and squeezed out another drop, forcing the remaining dangler to snap off and land next to the previous one. Silver's concealed erection gave an alarming lurch at the sight, and he knew he had just pumped out a bit of precum of his own into his trunks, but he forced himself to keep his composure.

Tilting his head, he stuck his tongue out and gave one long, experimental lick down the side of Gold's shaft from the head to the base. It thrashed under his touch and Silver heard a long moan emanate from above. Looking up, he saw Gold making eye contact with him and smiling, as if he was playing to the gallery. Silver sternly frowned back. "Shut up," he ordered.

He returned his attention to the task at hand and leaned forward. The tip of Gold's cock tickled against the strands of long red hair hanging over his left ear, no doubt spreading body fluids everywhere, and he made a mental note to wash his hair later. For now, he was focused on Gold's ballsack, dragging his tongue over the gently pulsating skin as if he was trying to memorise every wrinkle. He went further, completely engulfing one of Gold's testicles with his mouth and sucking tenderly, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. He finally removed the hand that was holding Gold's shorts leg up, content that his raging hard-on made a more than adequate hook on which to hang it, and resumed massaging his upper thigh, this time with both hands. Silver withdrew his mouth slightly so that Gold's gonad was barely held in place by his lips, and flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth over it. This was a mere distraction from the main event, as one of his hands crept even further up the small remaining amount of flesh covered by the shorts and tightly squeezed a handful of firm bare buttcheek.

"Uh... Silver?" Gold's voice was wavering, hesitant. All the things Gold never was normally, and which Silver couldn't get enough of turning him into; the only feeling that compared, although he didn't like to admit it, was when Gold successfully did it to him. "Are you gonna... or..."

Silver withdrew again. The head of Gold's dick was, if anything, even stickier, and his balls were still reeling from the recently ceased stimulation. Gold's face suggested he was about to lose his much-vaunted cool. Silver felt himself leak a bit again, his boner now rammed down one of his shorts legs, and he subconsciously pressed one of his hands down upon it and kneaded slightly. His other hand made a fist around Gold's cock, and then finally Silver tasted the salty fluids gathered at the tip.

His lips were only pressed against a small area of Gold's glans, parted just wide enough for the tip of his tongue to explore the opening. As he lapped up the precum that was already there, he felt the dick tense in his hand and a larger quantity than before dribble out directly onto his taste buds. Without really considering what he was doing, he swallowed to clear his mouth and moved his fist back and forth a couple of times. The hand still on his own dick mirrored the motion to the best of its ability.

Sensing by the jumping of Gold's dick that he didn't have much time left, Silver opened his mouth wider and took in the entire glans. He sucked on it gently, moving his tongue wherever he was able, as his other hand clenched ever more desperately at fabric. Suddenly it was knocked out of the way; Gold had lifted one of his feet and was trying to use it to clumsily return at least some of the favours Silver was doing for him, and not really succeeding. Silver looked up with a grumpy frown, or as close as it is possible to get to a grumpy frown with one's mouth still enclosed around a cock head, which judging by Gold's giggle wasn't very. But he relented anyway, and by way of a compromise Silver wriggled around a bit to get just enough of his shorts out of his way, revealing a shock of hair above his groin that was just as red as on his head, and then he reached within his shorts and pulled his erection out so that it stood free above his waistband. He absent-mindedly swiped a dollop of precum off his own tip, then, for lack of anywhere better to put it, smeared it on Gold's balls.

Determined to finish the job, Silver gradually guided more of Gold's shaft past his lips. He stopped about halfway down, when he felt he couldn't take in any more without choking, and instead began moving his head back and forth. He tasted as much of the surface area of the organ as he could reach with his tongue, but continued to pay special attention to the head, occasionally pausing to swirl his tongue around the tip some more. He moved his fingers up and down the length he couldn't fit in, while down below, he started to masturbate in earnest with his other hand.

Perhaps Gold was feeling slightly guilty at Silver doing all the work, for a pair of hands were suddenly nestled in Silver's hair. Silver started a bit and looked up nervously, allowing the penis to slip out of his mouth.

"I'm not gonna force you," Gold reassured him hastily. "I just... wanted to touch you."

"Just give me a warning before you blow," Silver replied flatly, before returning his attention to the task at hand.

It could be difficult to tell if something was pleasing Silver at the best of times, but if he was willing to tolerate it then it was probably a good sign. His head increased its pace in time with the fist pumping on his own cock; meanwhile his other hand was relieved of its role holding Gold's cock in place, and resumed its exploration. Gold felt almost violated, but in a good way, as Silver's hand snaked up the other leg of his shorts, groping all around his groin and butt areas, one cold finger slipping underneath to press against his anus. Gold gave a little yelp at that, but the sudden spurt of precum that landed on Silver's tongue told a different story.

It was obvious Gold was about to finish, so Silver hastily withdrew his hand in readiness for one last attack. He seized his partner's churning balls in his fist and began aggressively fondling them between his fingers and thumb, feeling them contract before Gold even had time to squeak out, "Coming!"

Silver got his head out of the way just in time, still savouring the copious discharges Gold had produced but not in the mood to try cum eating right now. The fists in his hair clenched down as Gold began to shoot into the air.

Gold's dick jerked once, twice, three times, each jerk squirting out a long rope of semen which sailed out horizontally over Silver's shoulder and splattered onto the rocks some feet behind him. The tail-end of each shot landed on his shoulder and dripped messily down his chest, and the following weaker spurts landed mostly or entirely there. Silver still had Gold's balls in one hand, which he could feel pulsating with the rhythm of Gold's ejaculation; his own dick throbbed in his other hand, but he hadn't quite managed to make it there in time.

Silver let go and stood up as Gold's orgasm came to an end and the hands in Silver's hair dropped down. He leaned back on the rock with his boner sticking out in front of him, and set about vigorously dealing with his own arousal. He had just pulled his shorts down a little further so he could grasp hold of his own balls, when a loud splattering noise made him look to his left.

Gold was urinating out of his half-deflated penis, now having to use one of his hands to keep his shorts leg held up. Judging by the colour and the quantity, all that pop had got to him badly, and Silver couldn't help but wonder how close he had come to ending up with that in his mouth. On impulse, Silver reached across with his free hand. Gold removed his hand without complaint and allowed Silver to grasp hold of his gushing dick. Silver wondered momentarily if he might try to write his name on the rocks, but it was obvious he wasn't in nearly enough control for that. He settled for feeling the piss flowing through Gold's shaft with his fingers, while he pumped his dick ever more rapidly.

Gold, now left without anything to do once again, shuffled across slightly and leaned his head on Silver's clean shoulder. Silver being taller than him meant he could almost feel his heart beating from this position. Gold smiled and let out an obnoxiously loud sigh, treasuring the precious moments before Silver's orgasm when he was too single-mindedly focused on getting off to complain about most things Gold did. Then, as the last few drops of pee exited his dick, and thinking that he might as well give tit for tat, he reached down and cupped Silver's exposed scrotum.

Silver's body tensed at the moment Gold made contact, and barely a second later, he began to ejaculate. Gold watched closely, endlessly fascinated by the cock that was somewhat bigger and hairier than his own, and the squirts of cum firing powerfully out of it appeared to be travelling further as well. Silver managed to pump out five thick, creamy volleys before his orgasm started to die down, cashing in all the arousal that had festered in him since Gold had first given him an inadvertent (he presumed) eyeful.

But even while coming, he never broke from his reserved nature, not letting a sound pass his lips beyond some slightly ragged breathing. Far from being disappointed, Gold only felt more privileged that Silver had allowed him to witness something so intimate, to be with (and sometimes manhandle) him at his most vulnerable, even though he was sure it went against every fibre of Silver's being. Perhaps only Silver would ever truly know what he was like while alone, but Gold felt as if he was breaking through the barriers Silver threw up against the world further and further every day. Every moment of pleasure Silver allowed himself to feel in Gold's presence made it all worth it, but that went double when Silver reciprocated.

Silver had already packed himself away, his huge shorts able to conceal even a nearly full erection. They could do less about the cum trail staining his bare chest and shoulder, though. Gold let his own shorts fall back into place and squeezed Silver's hand slightly; Silver didn't squeeze back, but he didn't tense his shoulders or tug his hand away either. Gold knew Silver would never be a touchy-feely person, so that was almost like a hug from him.

"I need to wash off," Silver said bluntly. "I'm going down to the water. You can wait for me on the beach if you want."

There was a relatively straightforward path to the sea from here, hopping from rock to rock, mostly concealed from the rest of the beach. Further along the terrain wasn't so forgiving, with Gold's eyes tracking across one large rocky outcrop that seemed to end abruptly in deeper waters. Silver didn't wait for a reply, but Gold decided to return to the beach anyway. Pausing for a moment to look back at Silver picking his way safely downwards, Gold made haste back the way they had arrived before Brendan and Barry could work out that he'd seen them.

* * *

Brendan's heart must have been going a million miles a minute. He'd never intended to walk in on this. Yes, he'd thought Red and Blue seemed to be acting oddly. Yes, he'd deliberately moved closer. Yes, he'd had his suspicions all along, but it was something else entirely to see them confirmed in front of his eyes.

He couldn't actually see anything beneath the water, but to him there was no doubt about what was going on. When Blue placed Red's hand on his groin for the first time, Brendan jolted in sync with Red's own shocked reaction. When Red moved his arm around in exploratory motions, Brendan's hand unconsciously mimicked the vision in his mind's eye. Maybe there was still a slim chance that the whole thing was some kind of wacky misunderstanding, until Blue let out that moan.

Brendan froze at that moment, slammed by four separate realisations at once: first, that he was definitely perving on two of his friends having sexy time; second, that it was only going to get sexier; third, that his dick had got hard watching them do it; fourth, that his hand was still groping the tent in his shorts at that very moment.

These thoughts gradually percolated through his brain as he watched Blue start to return the favour to Red, eventually congealing into two conclusions: secondly, that he had no idea what he would say or what might get done to him if he was caught whacking off to Blue getting a handjob; and firstly, that _holy shit he was whacking off to Blue getting a handjob_. He jerked his hand away from his groin as if scalded, as the fight or flight instinct began to kick in.

He was lucky that Red and Blue only seemed to have eyes and ears for each other while he swam as fast, but as quietly, as he could back the way he had come. The feel of the water dragging over his protruding boner did nothing to take his mind off things, and the part of his brain most closely connected to it tried its hardest to convince him that he wasn't really running away from Red and Blue potentially being mad they got caught wanking, he was running away from the part of him that desperately wanted to stay and join in.

The sound of Blue's moan still reverberated in his ears and his tent was showing no signs of collapsing any time soon, so it looked as if Brendan was going to be confined to the water for the immediate future. Maybe after Red and Blue had finished - _finished_ , now there was a word for which his dick reminded him he had not fully thought the implications through - he could go back and rub one out in their place. Or, come to think of it, he could rub one out somewhere else entirely right now. Why had that not occurred to him first? It was surely more convenient than letting his arousal fester until Red and Blue had sprayed their juices in the water, then sitting in the same water surrounded by the lingering scent of sperm and hormones, beating his meat until he could achieve that blissful moment of climax, unloading himself all over the place where two hot, mostly naked guys were right at this minute getting off with each other. Anyway. Point was, he should stop jerking his dick through his shorts (when had he started doing that again?) and go off somewhere private.

Brendan shook the haze out of his mind just in time, as he noticed he had company approaching. He had made his way back to the water opposite the stretch of beach where they had left their bags, and Wally, the only person presently on it, was walking slowly into the water in a somewhat odd manner. He looked as if he was trying to balance something heavy and invisible on his head, and he seemed to be trying to take steps forward while simultaneously keeping his legs jammed tightly together above the knee. He froze when he saw Brendan looking at him and a fearful look came across his face, his eyes darting left and right in a search either for a way out or anyone else that might be watching.

Brendan took the initiative. "Hey," he called out softly. "Are you alright?" His protective instincts had kicked in on seeing Wally's anxiety, and he embraced them as a distraction from his own situation.

At first Wally only looked more terrified, but as Brendan followed Wally's eyes downwards he realised that this new bout of fear had nothing to do with him. A trickle of something white had escaped down the inside of Wally's leg. Brendan didn't dare believe that it was what it looked like.

Wally appeared to come to a decision, and broke into a run towards Brendan's position. The violent splashes obscured anything else that might have happened below his knees, and before long most of his lower body was underwater. He came to a halt and relaxed visibly, then did one last check to make sure that Brendan was the only one that could see him.

Brendan knew that Wally trusted him absolutely and that he would confide in Brendan embarrassing secrets he would never dare tell anyone else, but he was in no way prepared for what happened next. Wally reached down to the waistband of his shorts, an inch or so above the water, and tugged it down to somewhere around his thighs. Revealed were a cute, small, hairless penis, the foreskin skimming the water; a pair of balls which looked somewhat outsized in comparison; and a substantial cloud of white floating around in the water between his legs.

The cogs in Brendan's brain ground slowly into place as he stared, open-mouthed, at Wally cleaning himself up. He pulled his shorts off entirely and held them in the water, turning them inside out and shaking, making sure that every last vestige of semen was removed. Then he stepped back into them but did not pull them up, turning his attention instead to his exposed genitals. He pulled the foreskin back, revealing a glistening glans, which he splashed seawater on and wiped off the same substance that Brendan could feel burning at the head of his own cock.

Not only had Wally apparently cum in his pants, Brendan was in serious danger of following suit.

He knew he ought to stay back, offer some words of comfort and reassurance, but he couldn't think of anything except how much he wanted to get off _right now_ , and it looked like he was too late to ask Wally to be his jerk-off partner. Without another word, he darted through the water, heading towards the rocks, feeling Wally's hurt gaze burning into his back.

His sights were set on the closest rock that looked comfortable (by rock standards) and was big enough to hide him from the beach. He hadn't counted on it being occupied, which was how, as he swum round the border of the outcrop, his eyes landed a direct hit on Gold and Silver.

More specifically, Silver.

Silver, the cold and aloof too-cool-for-school guy who, to Brendan's understanding, nobody really liked. Silver, who currently had most of Gold's dick in his mouth. But even that wasn't enough to draw Brendan's attention from further downward, where Silver was fiddling with his shorts, exposing a bit of buttcrack and then reaching in to pull out... that. Where had Silver been hiding that?! Not only did Brendan suddenly find himself with a ringside seat for the most intimate parts of someone who killed and ate intimacy for breakfast, it was embarrassingly clear that Silver had outpaced him considerably in that department. Even at this distance, the clump of bright red hair stood out, and although he couldn't see much detail beyond how long and thick the shaft was, that was more than enough to make Brendan feel simultaneously inadequate and more aroused than he could ever remember being before.

He was fast running out of options. He couldn't stay here, or Silver would surely see him and kill him. His eyes alighted on a peninsula further along, a wall of high rocks jutting out into the sea, and swam as quickly but quietly as he could towards it.

He had planned on hiding behind the peninsula, but as he drew closer, he discovered that the formation was in fact hollow. A U-shaped wall of irregularly sized rocks reached out about as far as where the water was waist-deep, but inside the rocks were much lower and flatter, and looked as if they could be climbed upon. It was such a perfectly secluded hiding place that Brendan was half surprised he didn't find the TM for Rock Slide.

Brendan clambered out of the water onto the hard ground, his task mildly impeded by the need to avoid spraining his erection on the rocks, and dripped over to the far end. Leaning back against one of the larger rocks, he realised that the formation wasn't actually perfectly sealed off; by turning his head at just a very slight 90-degree angle, he could see over a gap where a rock wasn't as high as the others, and from there a direct line of sight opened up to Silver's head moving back and forth.

Brendan couldn't take any more. He placed both hands on his waistband and slowly pushed down his shorts, his boner catching on the elastic and being forced down until it was straining in an almost vertical position, before the last bit of fabric slipped over the head and allowed it to snap up and bounce freely in a spray of seawater and precum. He clenched his fist around the base, dragging it slowly up so that his foreskin bunched around his glans, then with a sigh brought it back down again. He repeated the motion, slightly rougher and quicker this time, hissing slightly as his arousal finally started to be attended to properly. He could see Gold facing in his direction and wondered if Gold could see him, and what might happen if he could. He was so focused on the dangerous sight to his right that he completely failed to spot the danger approaching directly in front of him.

"Heyyy, whatcha doing?"

Brendan started so badly he nearly gave his dick some kind of injury. Arms flailing wildly in a mostly failed attempt to shield his hard-on, he whipped his neck round to lay eyes on the sight he least wanted to see right now: Barry, standing in the water with his arms folded on the rock in front of him, and a shit eating grin plastered all over his face that announced in no uncertain terms that he knew exactly what the answer to his question was.

"Fuck off!" Brendan whispered angrily as loud as he dared. Even to Barry, he would never normally be so aggressive, but he was currently experiencing a prime example of what it meant to be out of one's mind with arousal. Down below, his hands scrabbled in an uncoordinated attempt to simultaneously pull his shorts up and cover his dick, in spite of the fact that one task got in the way of the other, and Barry had undoubtedly seen everything already anyway.

"Hey, that ain't nice," Barry protested insincerely, his expression barely changing. If Brendan had any hopes that Barry would oblige his request, they were soon dashed by Barry hauling himself out of the water. Brendan struggled for anything to say - something that might have a chance of getting Barry to relent when confronted with his favourite thing in the whole world, a trapped target who he could annoy to his heart's content. All he could think of was the theme from that movie with the Sharpedo, in time with Barry's padding footsteps.

"Hey, you can see Gold and Silver from here!" Barry had drawn level with the lower rock, and Brendan's stomach had dropped to his knees. He was already preemptively calculating blackmail prices, and being caught perving on top of being caught wanking was a heck of a liquidity injection into the Keeping Barry's Mouth Shut market. How many crates of Jolteon Cola could he afford if he didn't get his bike that new gearbox after all? His thoughts were interrupted by Barry turning to look him directly in the eye, now uncomfortably close, his smile taking on a distinctly predatory edge. "Didja see the size of Silver's dick? Lemme tell ya, you're really missing out from this angle."

"I - you - what - " were among the more identifiable syllables that spluttered from Brendan's lips, tripping over all of the unsettling implications that had just fallen out. What had Barry been up to for most of the day? What else had he seen? What was Barry up to right now? What could he see, as his eyes left Brendan's face and tracked downwards along his hyperventilating chest, landing on where his still exposed - and _still_ erect - cock was sticking out from behind one inadequately positioned hand. With one panicky tug, Brendan pulled his shorts up with both hands, leaving his boner fully visible for a fraction of a second; it was way too late to worry about the loud smacking noise it made before being concealed again, unintentionally mirroring one of Barry's first acts on their day out. Oh, how the tables had turned.

"OK." Brendan's voice was barely back under his control, and he needed to get some serious thinking done before it was too late. "OK. What do you want?"

Barry didn't offer an answer. Ruefully looking up from Brendan's crotch, he said, "You're missing out on Red and Blue giving each other handies, y'know."

Brendan's frustration bubbled over before he was able to stop it. "Why don't you go and bother them then?"

"But they looked so _happy_ together," Barry trilled infuriatingly. "And yet here you are, out here all alone~"

Brendan didn't have time to worry about how Barry had just managed to pronounce a tilde. "What do you want?" he repeated, trying to steer the conversation towards an exit strategy that left at least some vestiges of his dignity intact. "No, seriously, tell me - all these things you've just said - you can't tell _anyone_ about this, what you're - what we're -"

"Can't I?" Barry interrupted, in tones just ambiguous enough to make Brendan's blood run cold with terror at the thought he might have actually understood. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but sometimes desperate times called for downright humiliating measures. "Please, please," he pleaded. "If Silver finds out he'll - he'll probably -"

Barry's eyes lit up. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "You want me not to tell Silver you were tossing off to him giving a blowjob, so he doesn't beat you into a pulp, right?"

"Or anyone else!" Brendan hastily clarified, wondering if he had caused more harm than good in steering Barry towards the correct conclusion. Barry appeared to ponder this for a few moments, and Brendan braced himself for the worst.

"So what did you mean when you said, what do I want?" Barry inquired cautiously, and Brendan resisted the urge to facepalm. He wondered just how much of this mess was his own doing - beyond the choking-the-Combusken-in-public part - and whether Barry had been purposely allowing him to dig his own hole. That guy was an enigma and a half when it came down to how much of his attitude was genuine. Was it naive to believe that the manic energy Barry poured into his expertly-fought battles was just another facet of his persona in day-to-day life?

"Well," Brendan began, picking his words carefully. "I just meant, if you were to, you know, want something, because I know I just said, I mean I know I shouldn't -"

"You want to buy me off?" Barry interrupted again. Brendan lapsed into shameful silence, no longer able to tell who was steering who in this conversation. Barry certainly didn't need any more leading, and at the sight of his teeth flashing in Brendan's direction once again, Brendan knew the moment of truth was coming.

Barry stepped out in front of Brendan, cornering him fully in the rocky alcove. Then he pulled up the left leg of his yellow shorts, over his thigh and then further, revealing the white mesh underneath. One final tug to the side uncovered the filled-out mesh between his legs, flashes of pink barely visible where his flaccid penis pressed against it. "Touch me," he ordered.

Brendan briefly recalibrated his standards for "the worst" and made a note to brace himself better next time.

"But - but what - why?" he eventually managed, though not succeeding in pulling his gaze back upwards.

"Well, you're all having fun without me," Barry replied casually. "And since you _offered_..."

Brendan had no comeback, not even a flimsy one. He knew he likely couldn't wriggle out of this if he wanted to, but what was worse was that he wasn't sure he wanted to. His stare was locked on the teasing bulge in front of him, already committing to memory the tiny chequerboard of exposed skin patches that curved downwards and slightly outwards. And his hand was already robotically moving forwards, egged on by the harder concealed lump in his own shorts, which throbbed at the instant his fingertips very nearly made direct contact with soft flesh.

"Go on," Barry urged him, but he barely heard it. He gently kneaded the yielding surface between his fingers, then traced around the indistinct outline of the shaft, ending when it became clear his fingers were now cupped beneath Barry's balls. He was moving his fingers gradually upwards, trying to locate the tip of Barry's cock, when they detected the first twitch.

Brendan briefly glanced upwards. Barry was wearing a small contented smile, and - was that the beginnings of a blush? And he was getting hard at Brendan's touch. Brendan moved his hand forward so that it covered the entire bulge, and Barry's cock pulsated agreeably against his palm and expanded a little more.

Brendan's fingers pressed against the mesh, gently squeezing and feeling the expanding bulge, which grew firmer to the touch with every throb. The mesh began to tent out, allowing an unobstructed glimpse of a testicle to come into view above Barry's thigh. Barry's cock head was now much easier to spot, and Brendan wasted no time in rubbing two fingers over the mesh that Barry's glans was pressing against.

Upon becoming fully erect, Barry put one hand over Brendan's groping digits and eased them off. Brendan's hand returned promptly to his own crotch, grasping at his confined boner, but his eyes never moved from their previous position as Barry put both hands on his waistband. With one smooth movement, Barry shucked his shorts to his ankles, his freed erection bouncing up and down violently in front of him. He looked down, giggled a bit, then grasped the base of his penis and wiggled it up and down some more, then from side to side, then he held it upright and pulled his balls up with his other hand, then he looked at Brendan, who was practically panting.

"Go on, drop 'em!" Barry said, in cheery tones which almost disguised the fact that it was unmistakably an order. Brendan had frozen in place, part of him not hearing Barry, the other part simply not wanting to believe what was about to happen, and for a reason that he never anticipated. There was simply no getting away from the fact that Barry was way more... well, developed, than Brendan had been prepared to give him credit for. Barry was supposed to be the immature one of the group, the one they could all look down on, the one who seemed like he would never grow up, and yet here was incontrovertible evidence of the inexorability of Dialga's march right before him.

Put bluntly, it was simply _unfair_ that Barry should have appreciably more hair down there than he did. To speak nothing of the size of that cock, which was definitely both larger and thicker than Brendan's, and although Barry's scrotum was still smooth Brendan wouldn't bet against it being that bit fuller and heavier than his own as well. And that meant that Barry must be having wet orgasms, and intrusive sexy thoughts, and all the other things that seemed antithetical to his very nature. Brendan knew for a fact that Barry was younger than him, too. It felt as if the universe had upended itself. Why should Barry, of all people, have got all the good genes?

Maybe the signs were there. It wasn't often that Barry stood both still and close enough for Brendan to be able to judge, but in his current position, there was no question that Barry's eye level lay noticeably above his own (if only he hadn't been looking at another part of his body entirely). And in the opposite direction, although Barry's hair colour made it almost impossible to see, the glint of the sun betrayed a fine mist of pale blond hairs starting to cover his shins. It was nothing, however, to the nascent blond bush sprouting behind the hand holding his cock, thinly populated but already maybe an inch long. The best Brendan had been able to do was a regrettable morning two weeks earlier, when he nearly got excited about a longish brown hair nestling in his boxers, which on closer inspection turned out to be traceable to a moulting Linoone.

Barry lost patience and ripped Brendan's shorts down, leaving them pooled around his ankles and his boner bouncing free in the sea air, mirroring the motion of Barry's, which had been released from his grip. Brendan blushed harder but gave up on the idea of preventing Barry from taking his first proper look at his hairless genitals, which lasted maybe two seconds before Barry's attention wandered again.

"Sword fight!" was Barry's next command, shuffling forward until his dropped trunks lay almost on top of Brendan's. An almighty jolt ran through Brendan's body as he came into direct contact with Barry's dick for the first time; it was warm where the plastic mesh had been cold, and slightly sticky and damp from a substance that was definitely not seawater. Barry waved his cock all around, touching Brendan's cock from left, right, above and below, even taking advantage of his added length to poke his tip directly into Brendan's groin, where it left a small stain that felt almost like it was burning. Brendan was still paralysed, so Barry gave up hoping that he would join in and seized Brendan's erection for himself.

Brendan gasped when Barry's hot fingers wrapped around his dick; his slit, which was at that moment situated just above and at a slight angle to Barry's boner, reacted by dribbling out a fresh batch of precum directly onto Barry's veiny shaft. Barry nodded in approval and bent back slightly, lining his dick up directly with Brendan's and guiding them together until the tips touched. Brendan thought he might have heard Barry let out a gasp as he mashed their cock heads together almost as if they were kissing; he lined their urethrae up together, pressing forward, then scraping the edge of his slit along the edge of Brendan's, an activity well lubricated by the copious amounts of fluid issuing from both. Barry was pumping precum almost directly into Brendan's penis, and their combined discharges merged together into a stringy glob that dangled in the open air between their tensing balls.

Barry lifted the hand that was holding Brendan's dick so he could use its thumb to massage both of their sensitive glanses at once. His breath caught at that, and, without the extra guidance, his dick slipped under Brendan's. He made no attempt to correct this; his hips seemed to be moving involuntarily as they jerked forward once, then twice, both times driving Barry's soaking cock head into Brendan's balls.

Brendan suddenly realised that Barry almost certainly didn't have anything in the way of sexual experience. The loudmouthed swagger from earlier was all gone, replaced by a deep red blush, heavy breathing and erratic movements; Barry was succumbing to the hormones that Brendan supposed he would be forced to admit that he did in fact have. He may have instigated this, but he was no longer in control of it. If Brendan continued to leave him to his own devices he'd probably just spooge all over Brendan's thighs and leave him even hornier and lonelier than before; it was up to Brendan to rescue the situation.

Brendan laid a hand over the hand that was still holding Barry's cock, intending merely to signal that he wanted to take over, but they both let it linger there for just a second too long while their eyes met. A moment passed where it seemed neither of them were breathing, and they both became acutely conscious of the contact. Barry dropped his hands and allowed Brendan to guide him forward, Brendan being unable to resist briefly feeling up his bare backside as he did so. Their boners were now standing freely, Barry's at a slightly steeper upward angle than Brendan's; the height difference combined with the length difference meant that, when Barry's tip dug into Brendan's sternum, Brendan's tip was barely brushing against Barry's ballsack. The manoeuvre was completed when they were standing chest to chest, their dicks trapped vertically between them, pulsing from the pressure and leaking all over the place. They were both going to blow, and soon.

For the first time, Brendan held Barry's bare cock in his right hand; it was burning hot with arousal, and throbbed eagerly against his palm. Brendan gave it a couple of strokes, purely on an experimental basis (although Barry still gave a sharp intake of breath), before lifting his thumb off and wrapping it around his own cock, while keeping his other four fingers attached to Barry's. Their dicks were pressed together, large and pale against small and tan, and every pulse of arousal from one triggered a sympathetic reaction from the other, and then in turn back again, spiralling into a feedback loop.

The position wasn't ideal, for the base of Brendan's cock was located some distance below Barry's, and it barely reached halfway up. Brendan was just wondering if this was going to be good enough when Barry had an idea, and bent his knees outwards ever so slightly to bring their crotches in line. It wasn't the most comfortable of poses, but neither of them were under the illusion that he would be obliged to maintain it for long. Brendan did his bit by standing on tiptoes to meet Barry halfway, and then he started moving.

The first pump of his fist elicited a moan from both of them at once, and Barry shot his hands out and planted them on the rock behind Brendan to keep his balance. Skin moved against skin between Brendan's dexterous fingers, the twitching increasing to feverish rates as their dicks stimulated each other ever closer to the finish. Brendan soon sped up, all of his pent up desperation coming tumbling out as he tugged them as fast as his wrist could bear. They were both gasping and panting like crazy, their dicks slipping and sliding in their combined fluids, and barely fifteen seconds later Brendan's balls contracted for the last time.

The force of his orgasm was so powerful that his entire body went stiff, and his hand froze halfway up Barry's shaft. Barry knew exactly what was about to happen; their penises were so close together he could feel every sensation rushing through Brendan's as it stiffened and filled with spunk, and then, with a groan, the first small spurt of white fluid erupted from the dilated slit. This didn't go very far, barely reaching the edge of Barry's retracted foreskin and settling between the two, but it was swiftly followed by a second, somewhat larger, squirt, which sailed clear up into the air for a short distance before landing a direct hit on - or perhaps in - Barry's own cock slit.

The sights, sounds, and sensations were all too much; Barry's balls drew up as he felt his own orgasm begin, and something inside him snapped at that instant. Even as Brendan continued to fire out relatively modest quantities of semen while making enough noise to imply buckets, Barry shoved his hips roughly forward, breaking Brendan's grip and forcing his ejaculating cock to one side, where it continued to jizz amidst Barry's pubes. Barry rolled his hips urgently, rutting against Brendan like an animal in heat, two sets of churning balls bashing together down below and Barry's hot, frantic pants blowing against Brendan's face at close range up above.

The first rope of semen left Barry's boner with the pressure of a fire hose. It streaked straight up Brendan's torso from where his cock head was pressed against his stomach, leaving a long white trail. Barry gasped, shuddered, pressed his chest into Brendan's, and then spewed out another one. In all, Barry's cock pumped out six loads before twitching in defeat, most of which ended up smeared over both of their bare chests, though some of the smaller ones landed on their dicks, where it mingled with the globs of Brendan's load.

As their twin orgasms died down, Brendan and Barry relaxed in tandem, and let out breaths they didn't realise they'd been holding. Brendan had achieved his aim of relieving his urges, and had learned a few new things as a bonus. Barry, for his part, had surpassed his expectations of a slightly elevated wank, and learned of the existence of new realms of bliss, the likes of which he would never have dared to dream. The giggles came back as he looked down at the mess they had made, and this time Brendan caught them too, partly from the giddy feeling, partly to cover up his nervousness about the large proportion of spunk on their bodies that was not his.

"You didn't tell me it was a contest!" Brendan said, trying to make light of it.

"Well, you definitely won the Appeal Round!" Barry choked through his laughter, inviting Brendan to join in, in appreciation for Barry demonstrating some kind of wit if nothing else. In spite of the brave face Brendan put on, there was something not quite right about his tones; he knew as much, but he never expected Barry to notice.

"But seriously, you were awesome," Barry added, once he had calmed down a bit. Brendan felt a slight blush creep across his cheeks that had nothing to do with arousal or exertion, and muttered, "You too."

He couldn't stop his eyes from wandering back to their half-hard, jizz-covered dicks, but determined not to say anything. So it was with the fright of his life that he heard Barry say, "Quit worrying about it. I looked like you six months ago, you'll be fine."

"But what if it never gets bigger?" Brendan asked in a small voice.

"You're just a late bloomer, that's all. Nothing to be ashamed of. And besides," Barry ploughed on without giving Brendan a chance to reply, "with what you did just there? Even if you never grow older for a hundred years, you'll still give someone the time of their life." He smiled, but it was a different kind of smile this time. Brendan was left feeling as if his world had turned upside down; it was true he had never spent much time around Barry, and it was true that was at least partly by choice, but who knew he was capable of being - well - human? Was it a secret switch flipped by orgasm, or was it just that nobody truly gave him a chance?

"I - thanks," was all he could manage to say. Barry clapped his sticky hand on Brendan's shoulder, then turned around and bent down to pull up his shorts, poking his butt directly against Brendan's groin as if it was some kind of accident. Brendan followed suit after Barry gave him some room to move. Barry was just about to jump into the water when the original justification for this tryst crashed back into Brendan's mind, and he called out, "Hey - wait!"

Barry looked over his shoulder at Brendan tucking his penis back into his shorts. "Yeah?"

"About this - you remember what I said, right?"

Barry flashed his grin one last time, and drew his finger across his lips. "Not a soul."

* * *

##### Epilogue

Barry eventually crashed into a near-coma for fourteen hours, waking up early the next morning nursing the mother of all hangovers. Lucas remarked that it was the first time _Barry_ had ever been heard begging _other people_ to be quiet.

About one week later, Silver and Gold could be seen emerging from the sportswear shop in a tiny provincial shopping mall, Silver apparently in a great haste to get out of there, Gold trailing slightly behind as he struggled to pack one more pair of shorts which were surely several sizes too large to fit either of them into his bag. Silver caught his eye, and the tiniest of smirks began to play around the edges of Gold's lips, only to be swiftly quenched by the death glare emanating from Silver's direction.

Brendan continued to practise his surfing, steadily improving his technique. All through the summer, he could be found most weekends on a beach, honing his skills atop the waves, his focus never wavering from becoming the best he could be. Eventually his hard work paid off with his acceptance into the All-Hoenn Junior Regional Surfing Championships, a gathering of the region's best surfers at the peak of their performance, all of them determined to prove that they could stand head and shoulders above the competition and crest the wave of victory. He placed fifth. It was very anticlimactic.

Lucas never did wear that wetsuit again.

Red and Blue finally got over themselves and started officially dating, but even then, their rivalry never left them. They continually spurred themselves on to ever greater heights, until the two former champions became known as two of the greatest Pokémon trainers in the world, their cherished teams feared by Leagues and evildoers alike in regions everywhere. They continued to travel, learning about new regions and conquering new challenges. Some years later, they invited Wally to come with them on a battling holiday in a region called Alola... but _that_ , as they say, is another story.


End file.
